


Of Desire and Disaster

by MissRainDancer



Series: Of Desire and Disaster [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Frisk (Undertale), Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Mafiafell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Mobfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), And everyone watches and hopes she doesn't fry their brain, Bara Sans (Undertale), But like only Frisk dances, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Gonna get brutal here soon, Low key dancetale, Mafia Sans (Undertale), Major character death - Freeform, Mobfell Gaster, Mobfell Papyrus - Freeform, Mobfell Sans - Freeform, Underfell Sans (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, belly dancer, dancer frisk, just kidding, mafiafell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 79,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23992015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissRainDancer/pseuds/MissRainDancer
Summary: The Spring of 1920 is upon the world. Powerful mafia families lord over The Big City and one little dancer finds herself caught in the middle of it, trapped by nefarious forces, intrigue, murderous plots, and one skeleton who can't seem to let her go.
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Asgore Dreemurr & Toriel, Asriel Dreemurr/Muffet, Chara & Asriel Dreemurr, Frisk & Sans (Undertale), Frisk/Sans (Undertale), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Of Desire and Disaster [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734343
Comments: 76
Kudos: 129





	1. Monday Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings and salutations, dear reader! Thank you for stopping by. Before the story begins, I would like to state a few things. Firstly, City of Disaster is heavily influenced by Staringback's Sooner or Later series. Like many readers, I wish the story was not abandoned (or at least not on a super long hiatus), alas here we are. If any similarities are noticed, please understand it was not an attempt to plagiarize Staringback's work- I was very much inspired and wish to use their work as a springboard for my own creation. Second, I am placing the story quite firmly in the early-mid 1920s America. While this is an AU, I wish to stick as close to reality as possible in terms of slang, fashion, food, etc. Third, please enjoy and I welcome any comments, criticisms, or suggestions. Also, I have a Tumblr (@missraindancer) where I post up scribbles and whatnot :)

Her hip lifted up, then dropped sharply down. Repeat, repeat, repeat. The purple silk skirt glided through the air. She spun in a half circle to repeat the motions. Hip up, hip down, hip up, hip down. A mesmerizing fluid motion, keeping all eyes locked on a tight stomach, rolling like water. The watery blue veil twirled through air, driving away the smoke and smell of cigarettes and hookahs. It twisted left, right, then fell to the ground as the dancer leaned into a backbend. Loose brown hair nearly swept the floor. She thrusted upwards, suddenly, the soft sound of little charms and cheap fake coins clattered together to compete with the music. They swung with her hips, twinkling like little golden stars, trapping the stage light and reflecting it back into the hungry eyes of the audience. The drum beated rapidly as her hips shimmied and swayed. Another spin, trailing the veil behind her before she cast it to the stage floor in one swift motion. Her arms snaked upwards, as if to pluck smoke and applause out of the air. Back and forth she swayed, before bending forward at the waist to sweep to the side. Coming up her arms settled into a pose as if she were a warrior, firing her bow into the audience then with curved fingers beckoned them to follow. The music stopped. With a bow, the dancer spun away from the crowd. A flash of purple silk and brown hair ran from the rapturous applause as the curtain dropped. The exotic act was over and big band Jazz filled the silence leftover from the drums and twinkling charms.

"Good dancin', Frisky!" called out one of the musicians. 

"Can't help myself when there's good music playing." replied Frisk, giving him a twirl. 

As the next act was soon to begin, she hurried off stage. The musicians half packed their instruments, all rushed to make way for the next act's band to set up. Frisk pushed past a group of girls- little skimpy, skinny things, all giggles, pink frills, and nervous for the stage. Their wide eyes barely had any time for her as they chattered together, making sure each girl knew her steps. 

"On the 6th count lift your leg up to the right then turn!"

"I know that already." 

"We're turning left, right?"

"No, we turn left not right!"

"That's what I asked!" 

Frisk quickly pushed open the dressing room door, thankful it was empty. While there were always shows, Mondays were the most quiet. Only a couple of dance acts repeated throughout the day followed by music and quiet drinking deep into the night. She had finished her final performance for the evening and wouldn't need to meet with the musicians. This routine was still fresh enough with audiences, it wouldn't need to be changed for some time. The only downside to not changing up the routine every week was the lack of scheduling. To keep the exotic act exotic, Chowder Slims, her boss, didn't have her scheduled but a three or four days a week. "Need to keep it mysterious otherwise it'll be commonplace, not exotic."   


Frisk almost collapsed onto the single piece of furniture in the small room, trying to catch her breath. A little faded pink vanity with a large mirror surrounded by old bulbs was all the dancers got in their room. She grasped the edge of it, breathing deeply. Given the lateness of the evening, she didn't bother to stretch out her body from the act. Frisk just wanted to go home as the weariness from day set into her bones. 

Scattered across the single shared vanity table, were precious baubles of powders, makeups, brushes, and hair pins. The dull lights around the mirror barely illuminated her face as she peered in. Cheeks almost cartoonishly rounded by pink blush was the majority of her make up. Dark liner circling her eyes completed the exotic 'look'. Not bothering to see if they were hers, Frisk plucked up several hair pins from little vanity to twist her hair back into a low bun. When she danced at other clubs it'd been kept bobbed but after coming to Slims speakeasy she wore it long. Almost too long as the usual twist and pin trick barely held it together anymore. In an exasperated sigh, Frisk managed to wrangle it up into place.   


Frisk grabbed her purse, shrugged on her coat to hide at least part of her costume, and made her way to the bathroom. Unfortunately, this meant wading through the main hall as Slims had seen fit to place it nearly all the way across the speakeasy. As she opened the back dressing room door, music poured in from the nearby stage, greeting her through the smoky light. She gave a small shudder as she peered out into the chattering crowds surrounded by heavy smoke, and worst of all, watchful eyes with open ears. Frisk pulled the coat tighter around her, comforted by its warmth. Monday was a dangerous time for the average person. Words from the weekend were whispered over and over, twisted all up, and scattered into darkened alleyways, and secret meetings- any passerby may suddenly find themselves gulped up by the various gangs which prowled The Big City. It was a life she wanted part no of. Bad enough the gangsters themselves barely survived each passing year, a poor dancer like herself would find no mercy.

  
Keeping her head low, she darted between the tables, dodging waiters and patrons alike. For the few who glanced her way, a timid half smile was their reward. Occasionally, some would recognize her from the stage. They'd paw at her dress or try to swing her around onto their lap but that wasn't her job. Slims kept a whole cadre of both chippy monster and human women for that. She shuffled past the waiters, trays stacked high with either empty glasses or full ones. Frisk didn't bother with the hard stuff. Working in an illicit establishment did not mean she had to act like it. In all her years as a dancer, Frisk had witnessed too many a girl give into the lifestyle of the mob, with their booze, and money, and violence, and too many ended up just like their boyfriend's or worse. 

Besides, her grandmother didn't approve and that was all the reason she needed.

  
The bathroom, at least for the ladies, was relatively clean, if one did not squint too hard at the smudges on the mirror or notice the unwashed floor. She pulled a wash cloth and facial cleanser out of her purse, and got to scrubbing. The warm water and a clean face revitalized her spirits for a treasured moment. Frisk had been dancing since she was fourteen to pay for an escape out of the city. For the past year, it had been to pay for the medication needed to keep Grandmama alive. Her career after ten years had lost all its charm. Now she felt nothing but despair as grandmama continued to drift further away from this world and the savings dwindle down. The nervousness of dancing in speakeasies surrounded by murderous gangsters, the magic of the drum beat, silk costume, and stage lights all faded away from Frisk over the years. Though barely twenty four, Frisk envied all the women and girls who came in. They were still full of hope and the magic of the stage. Life still held meaning and dreams were fresh. They didn’t know the icy hold of fear and pain as their precious savings drained away, month after month, of seeing their beloved family fall away from them like sand in the wind. They didn’t understand the fear of waking up someday to be the last one left.

  
Grandmama wasn’t going to live forever and it was all Frisk could do to keep them afloat. Dancing had become just another job. Weary eyes stared at her from the mirror. Slims didn’t have her scheduled until Wednesday. Frisk made a mental note to see if the local grocer wanted anyone extra during the week. 

The music from the band had stopped for a change in musicians and silence echoed throughout the club. Voices from the hallway made Frisk pause as she patted lotion onto her face.

  
“Are you sure?” asked a voice.

  
“Yes I’m sure! I saw them setting up the private booth. You know what it means!” replied another in agitated excitement.

  
A third voice asked, “Can we really pull this off? They’re monsters!”

  
Frisk stood frozen. She knew exactly what they were speaking of. While Chowder Slims had not overtly stated his alliance, he was running a speakeasy in the Skeleton Brother’s territory. He smuggled for them booze and guns, traded more secrets than people in The Big City, and often invited the brothers to the club. The private booth, more of a small half-room, was nestled into the corner of the main hall. It had the best view of the stage and front entrance, so while the entertainment could be thoroughly enjoyed, a close eye could be kept on any potential enemies trying to sneak in. Naturally this was reserved for only the most esteemed of guests and highest paying patrons, namely the Skeleton Brothers. Frisk had never performed while they were at the speakeasy, always being scheduled to perform another day. She was content with this as high level guests always made her nervous, cementing the reality of the type of world she had literally danced her way in to. What was stated next made Frisk’s blood run cold.

  
“If we hit them while they’re being seated, they won’t stand a chance.”

  
“Yea, but we'll have to surround 'em.”

  
“Do ya think Lady C’ll approve though?”

  
"Don't worry about it. I have a couple of..."

  
The music began again, thoroughly muffling anything more Frisk might have heard but what she heard was enough to get killed over.

  
The small walls of the bathroom pushed in on her. The music was suddenly loud and the lights too dim. 

Lady C had to be the one and only Lady Chara and these men had to be hers. Lady Chara's men had always been a little off the track, preferring main street brawls and shoots outs, so a brazen attack at a rival gang's speakeasy was not outside the norm for these thugs. Of course, assassinations at clubs were nothing new but not on Slims tight ship. Safety was a big reason why she stayed at Slims', despite the lack of scheduled performances. It'd been such a relief not having to dodge a thrown chair or flee from a raised gun night after night. 

With the illusion of safety thoroughly and bitterly broken, a nervous giggle almost escaped her lips as the realization of what Frisk just heard dawned on her. ‘Mondays are truly the worst day of the week.’ she thought.


	2. Bumping off the Bumpers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After our heroine overhears a murderous plot, she rushes to notify the authorities (her boss) who notifies the would-be victims. Enter Two of Three of the Skeleton Brothers and add a dash of world building.

As the bathroom closed in around her, Frisk contemplated how to escape. She hadn't noticed the private booth being readied when she darted to the bathroom but she also wasn't really looking. If what the men had said was true then guests would likely be arriving shortly. There was only a little time to get to Slims, who would be overseeing the process, to notify him of the impending ambush. In theory, Slims could forewarn his guests and strike first. While a shootout was the last thing Frisk wanted, at least it would happen in her boss's favor. With her hair up and makeup gone, Frisk did not look like an exotic dancer from a faraway land. She looked like an average woman who somehow wandered into the speakeasy from the upstairs laundromat. 

That was of course if they didn't recognize the purple silk skirt sweeping out from her jacket. She took a deep breath to calm her rapidly beating heart. While she wasn't fluent in German, there were a few phrases Grandmama Aleit had beat into her memory. Frisk almost didn't hear the click of the door handle as she pulled it down, so hard was the blood pounding in her head. The conspirators were still huddled together in the hallway, next the door. A look of frightened shock crossed their faces as she appeared with a wide smile beaming across hers. She took quick stock of their appearances, determined to remember what they looked like. 

“Entschuldigen Sie, geehrte Herren.”(Excuse me, dear gentlemen) Frisk said in as happy of a voice as she could manage and tried to push past the group.

One of the men, puffing his chest, stepped in front of her. “Who are you?” he barked out, nearly nose to nose with her.

With a ditzy smile, Frisk responded “Guten Tag, Herren!”

The five conspirators looked at each other in confusion. Before they could figure out what to do with her, Frisk quickly side stepped past the man. She took measured steps trying not to give into the fear she felt. It would not be hard for them to simply grab her and lock the bathroom door.

“Dumb broad.” one of them said.

Anger pricked at her but she refused to glance behind. ' _Dumb broad indeed. Stupid palookas. Guess who's shouldn't have been running their traps in the hallway?'_ Frisk thought angrily. She wished she could run over to Slims and stick her tongue out at them. With no steps behind her, Frisk paused for a moment to scan the main hall to see an older greying man in a sharp grey suit analyzing the private booth.

Uniformed waiters hurried around it, placing everything just so, adjusting chairs too large for a person. The men were right. Frisk's stride paused for a step but the desire for a continued paycheck outweighed any misgivings she had towards _them._

“Sir?" asked Frisk, coming up to stand next to the older gentleman. Her short frame, encased by a worn powder pink coat, contrasted sharply against his tall frame held up by a finely tailored grey suit. Their expressions were just as opposite.

“Miss Engel. What is it?” A strained smile crept across his lined faced. If he could help it, Slims did not like to publicly acknowledge his ‘help’, especially in front of patrons. In Slims' mind to acknowledge the lower class of employees was unsightly and unprofessional. They were expected to know where his office was. Frisk was normally one to abide by the rules, and along with her lengthy employment record, was the only reason he had bothered to look at her at all.

“Sir, we must speak.” Her pleasant smile had never left her face but her tone rang of strained desperation. Without a word he gestured for Frisk to follow him towards the closest private area, the kitchen. Frisk followed, trying to keep the calm visage ongoing but a cold nervousness had set in. This wasn't a situation she was used too and most certainly not one she liked. He held the door open for her, ever the gentleman when being watched. The smell of freshly cooked food and grease greeted Frisk. It was not often she went into the kitchens and it was quite the foreign place to her. For a brief moment, she placed a hand on her empty stomach. The chief and waiters looked up before quickly moving away from the couple. In this world it was best to keep everything private, especially amongst co-workers.

“What is it?” hissed Slims’ voice, sharp and angry. 

For a moment, Frisk shrank back into herself.

“Um, sir, I uh, overheard some people talking in the restroom hallway.” She wrung her hands together, “Um, I th-think someone is planning to bump your guests tonight.” Frisk tried to meet his gaze evenly. Slims eyes widened then narrowed dangerously. “Explain. What do you mean you overheard someone?”

Taking a quick breath and keeping her tone low, Frisk obliged saying, “I overheard some folks in the hallway when the bands were changing. They had seen the private booth getting ritzed up and were talking about how it was the Brothers and they thought a surprise attack would be best. They mentioned Lady C might be approving of their actions and this isn’t Lady C’s territory so I thought you should know.” An impassive face stared at her nervous one.

“Point them out.” The kitchen door opened to the main floor once more. Frisk scanned the crowd, determined to identify the conspirators. While they weren't acting suspicious, they had scattered in a half circle around the private booth, mingling with the other guests. The Brothers would likely not be the only targets tonight if things went as Lady C's goons had planned.

“At that table! And right there too!” Frisk said. As she pointed to each man, her boss’s face never changed. He closed the kitchen door.

“You heard correct? There’s no doubt?”

“I heard them. They’re planning to attack as the guests are being seated.” 

Slims motioned for one of the waiters. Cracking open the door, he pointed them out to the waiter. "See those men? Ask if they would like to see the private stock up in the back. Make it irresistible." The wait staff was more accustomed, or rather trained, to such dealings and the waiter simply nodded. As soon as the waiter had talked with three men from the of the group, gathering them up like little ducklings to follow him, Slims offered his arm to Frisk. "I'll escort you topside." 

Feeling confident and assured, Frisk took his arm. 

~---------~

Rain, which had been pouring all day, turned to a light drizzle by the time evening had rolled in. For a moment all was peaceful under the golden rays of setting sun. 

To all outside appearances, there was nothing unique about the building. It was small, quaint, pleasantly clean, and fit in neatly with the neighborhood. The speakeasy entrance was nestled in the back of a laundromat, hidden behind racks of 'customer' clothing, already washed, pressed, and awaiting pickup. Slims asked all guests to keep up appearances so if they wanted entrance to the speakeasy, they had to ask for an 'order'. Too many close calls over the years had him cautious of the police and rival gangs. Actual laundromat customers had receipts to show the clerk, that way there was no confusion as to who got in, and of course kept up the illusion of being nothing more than a laundromat. The stairway underground was long enough no music, even at its loudest, escaped topside. Within the clothing room was a door leading to a larger warehouse section where Slims conducted the other half of the business. Soon the waiter would be leading the five thugs up there through a separate tunnel, distracting them from their murderous mission with the lure of secret goods. 

The clerk behind the counter wore a cheerful smile and gave a thumbs up when he saw Slims and Frisk appear from the back. "See you Wednesday, Miss Engel." said Slims. 

"See you Wednesday, sir." responded Frisk, taking her leave. 

As she left the laundromat, a large black car rolled up. The dark glass windows hid the figures inside. One of the windows was cracked just enough for a blood red smoke to curl its way out from it. In a typical Victorian attitude, Grandmama Aleit called cars the 'devil's wagon'. With this particular one, Frisk couldn't help but agree. She quickly lowered her head walking past it, thankful her role in tonight was over. This was the closest she'd ever been to Slims bosses and it was enough she stopped a plot to kill them. No further interaction on her part was wanted. The car door opened behind Frisk. Without looking back she quickened her step, pulling the pink coat tight against her. Whether it was against renewed fear or the after storm chill, Frisk didn't know. 

Clearly not a customer, especially with such a silky looking purple skirt, Sans briefly regarded the little waifish looking human walking down the street. With such big brown eyes, she looked like a little rabbit staring at them. He half expected her to give a small hop before scampering off. His brother Papyrus exited the car behind him, paying no mind to the woman, and grumbled about the cool weather. Sans pretended not to hear him as he switched his attention from the small pink figure to the manicured entrance of the laundromat. Inside was an unusual sight as Slims was not normally seen behind the counter. "Well something happened." observed Sans. 

"How fantastic." Came the less than enthused response from Papyrus, slamming the door shut. 

Entering the laundromat, the brothers were immediately greeted by Slims. “Ah! My good gentlemen! Please, step into my office for just a moment!”

The brothers glanced at each other before Papyrus simply shrugged. Slims held the office door open for his guests, as they ducked through the doorway. While most were not too much taller than his own six foot frame, Slims was always a little overwhelmed at the sheer size of monsters, particularly the brothers. The youngest of the brothers, Papyrus cast a sinister image with a perpetual scowl, enhanced by a scar running over the right side of his face, and 7 foot tall frame. Sans, the slightly more pleasant appearing middle brother, if one ignored the wicked grin etched into his face with a shiny gold tooth and thick cigar, was not as tall as his brother, standing eye level with Slims. He was wider than both Slims and Papyrus however, yet Slims never understood how exactly that worked. At one time he had seen that Sans wrist and arm bones were significantly thicker than that of Papyrus' and Gaster's bones. Slims had chalked it up to the innate magic of monsters and left it at that. Both brothers were dressed as neatly as Slims, in their jet black suits and blood red waistcoats. Papyrus, more careful with his appearance, kept his coat neatly buttoned and tie dead center of his chest. If he had hair, no doubt there would not be a single strand out of place. Sans, not overly caring, left his jacket undone and didn't bother with a tie. What he did wear were a couple of rings across his fingers, each one a thick gold band topped with a thick cut onyx or ruby to match the color of the suits. 

“I’ve received word we’ve been infiltrated.” Slims rushed to explain as soon as the door closed. He’d been working closely with the Skeleton Brothers gang for nearly a decade so there was no need for formalities or minced words. “The dancer you saw leaving just now overheard of an attack being planned on the private booth occupants. According to her, they postulated it was you gentlemen coming tonight and sought to ambush you. They also mentioned Lady Chara." Both brothers snarled at the notorious woman's name. "I trust the information. I’ve taken the liberty of shifting the men -there's five of them, by the way- to the warehouse section. They believe I am going to offer up some the _special_ goods.” explained Slims, as he leaned against the desk.

Asked the taller of the brothers as he crossed his arms, agitation thick in his voice, "You are sure about this? You know for a fact they came from Lady C?” This turn of events certainly threw a unpleasant wrench in the brothers plans for the night. 

Slims shrugged, unphased by Papyrus' tone. “Does it matter? Whether they are trying to curry favor or prove themselves worthy of her gang, they were still planning to bump you off.” Sans groaned as he rubbed the back of his neck bones. Of course the one night set aside to have some fun someone had to get cocky. "Besides," continued Slims, " they followed the waiter upstairs. Regardless of plans, they weren't here for drinks and entertainment." 

“Quite audacious of the little humans,” remarked Papyrus with an insulted sniff. "for them to even think they could harm one so great as myself or hurt my brother!" 

“Yea well, it's why we call 'em goons not geniuses. Shall we?” grunted an annoyed Sans, who took a huge puff from his cigar. The red smoke curled this way and that, twisting upwards before dissipating. 

The old human nodded. "Of course." 

"Mind the front, please.” Slims called out to the clerk as trio headed towards the back, who in turn simply responded with a smile and a nod.

A quick glance up told Sans his brother was disappointed with how the evening had started and if he was being honest, the feeling was mutual. It wasn’t often their elder brother, Gaster, let them out for a night of all play and no work. He didn’t blame Slims for this of course, the human had done right by notifying them, but he still felt a prick of annoyance. Somehow the men were able to spy without anyone knowing for who knows how long, and Gaster would have hear about this one way or another. Sans stifled another groan. Looking into this would mean more work and they already had so much to do fending off Chara's little thugs. She had to be planning something. So many clashes happened in the past month, and some thieving little bastards had even tried to get 'protection' fees out shops and apartments well within the Skeleton Brother territory. This little incident could not be mere coincidence. At least the Dreemurr family also hand their hands full with Chara too. How that blasted woman managed to keep any of her territory fighting on two fronts was nothing short of a miracle. 

How pathetic the little thugs became when the two monsters appeared in the warehouse. They paled nearly as white as Sans and Papyrus’ own bones, bringing forth a maniacal snicker from Papyrus. 

"Lookin' fer us, boys?" taunted Sans, gesturing for the pale little worms to approach. 

No longer phased by the abilities of monsters, Slims stood back to let his guests handle their would-be assassins. Even if the thugs had surprised the brothers, there was no doubt who would’ve won. It was over in less than a second, not even fit to be called a fight. The men had enough time to pull out their hidden bean-shooters before Sans had struck first, summoning bones to impale each human several times. Walking over to the bodies, Papyrus ripped open one their shirts, his sharp nails easily tearing through layers of cloth to reveal a freshly branded 'C' over the heart. A disgusted look passed over the trio. 

"Disgusting louts." spat Papyrus, turning to Slims. "How the Hell did they get in?"


	3. Day in the Life of Frisk/ Meet and Greet with the Boss's Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find our heroine at home with her beloved Grandmother. Times are tough and they're about to get tougher as her heroics from the night prior very quickly catch up with her. As the saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished.

The walk home was pleasantly chilly compared to the ever-warm speakeasy. The rain kept most characters at bay but a few were wandering the streets. Night was almost upon them and there was a stillness to the city Frisk reveled in. At the speakeasy was a constant noise, a never ending vibration of music and voices. What she wanted most at that moment was the gentle silence that filled the streets. A quick glance in the direction of Mount Ebbot summoned a shiver down her spine. The mountain looming over the skyline in the distance had always given her the heebie-jeebies, before she even knew what a speakeasy or gangsters were. The Big City wealthy made a point of expanding in the opposite direction of it, preferring a more pleasant view. Those in the poorer neighborhoods were left to hide themselves from the mountain's gaze. 

Frisk's neighborhood, while not far, was irreconcilably different from the neighborhood in which the Slims' speakeasy lay. The buildings were old and in the poorer parts, cracked windows and thrown roof shingles greeted all who passed by. The flora had been left to grow as it please, besieging the near-ruins with weeds and dead trees. The apartment building Frisk had called home since she was a teenager was of more sturdy stock. The brick was once a bright proud red but time had chipped away at it, leaving the brick scratched white and grey. The white paint trimmings around the windows and doorway had chipped off long ago, exposing rotted grey wood. The stairs leading up the front entrance cracked and crumbled under every foot step, more gravel than concrete.

Weary from a day of work, Frisk marched up the creaky stairs to her door. "Grandmama! I'm home!" She called out as she unlocked the door, staggering inside. A weak voice greeted her from the bedroom.

"Frisk, love, come hug me. I've missed you so." called out Grandmama Aleit, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets as she stared lovingly at her granddaughter. "How was your day, sweetie?" she asked as Frisk bent down to kiss her forehead. "It was great. There weren't too many people today but the musicians were fantastic." Aleit scooted over on the tiny mattress, barely big enough to fit the both of them. Frisk rested against her and for a moment, silence retook the room.

"I'll start on dinner. Shall I turn on the radio for you?" Frisk asked. Aleit was too weak to stand herself and Frisk felt awful for leaving her alone all day. She had done her best to set up the radio and left books stacked around her grandmother. Aleit once sewed costumes for Frisk to keep busy but her hands were now too shaky for such delicate work.

"No need, Frisk, no need. I was listening to the rain. It was so peaceful. Has it stopped now?"

"It stopped. There aren't many clouds so I don't think it'll start again." Frisk replied, getting up to walk into the kitchen. The pantry was despairingly bare. The last round of protection fees had left precious little money for medicine, and food once again found itself relegated to the bottom of the list. There was just enough left over she could make soup for them. The bread was hard in places but would be edible enough dipped in broth.

They sat together in silence, enjoying the warmth of the broth and comfort of each other. 

Sunlight flooded into the small apartment bringing forth the warmth of a new day. Frisk awoke with the light and carefully dressed as Aleit slept peacefully beside her. She would be rouse with the scent of coffee, the only thing they still had plenty of. Frisk tiptoed into the kitchen to start the coffee and prepare breakfast. Making a mental note of what was needed, she properly analyzed their pantry. There was enough leftover she could make oatmeal and use the last of their fruit. She'd get paid on Friday but had enough money for one last small grocery trip. Frisk meant to speak with the ole grocer about a job anyways.

The old Victorian woman rose to a small breakfast in bed of oatmeal, apple slices, and a warm cup of coffee, properly arranged on a small tray and placed it across her lap. Treating her like the lady she was in her youth was one of last things Frisk could still do for her. With shaking hands and shooing of Frisk who offered to help, Aleit slowly started on her meal. "I'll be visiting the grocer today. We need a small stock up before Friday. I'm also going to inquire if he's looking for extra help." said Frisk, watching her Grandmother's reaction over the rim of the cup. Aleit's face fell and she looked up sadly. 

"A second job? You work so much already! I'll never see you." cried Aleit. While Frisk hid much, she could not hide the worry that creased her face nor the thinness of her limbs. Aleit knew money was tight and guilt ate away at her with every passing day. Frisk working at such a young age was not childhood Aleit wanted for her. 

"It'll just be an extra day or two, nothing serious. Besides I only work four days at Slims. This'll just be on the side." Frisk tried to say flippantly but somehow couldn't quite say it right.

"I don't need my medicine every day. It can be stretched ou-"

"Absolutely not! Grandmother, you will take it everyday. I couldn't live myself if you had another fit!"

The last trip the hospital had frightened Frisk. She'd not been to one since her parents were taken. When Aleit had first fallen ill they living in her home country, surrounded by family and had been able to get to a hospital. A stroke, the doctors had called it. While she had recovered the use of her facial muscles, the rest of her body weakened. Leaving the Old Country behind to come back to The Big City was such a trial for Aleit who could barely walk. She insisted they go at the first sign of war and after awhile it finally happened. Letters from the family left behind never came again. Frisk could not go through such an event alone. It was hard enough with the comfort of family around her, now there was no one.

Aleit pouted for a moment and said nothing.

The grocers was quiet and shelves nearly empty. She knew, without even asking, there was no extra work here. 

"It's those darn thieves, comin' in here e'ery week, demanding their 'protection' money!" He practically spat out the words. "And there is nothing left for me to use. Lookit those shelves! Practically naked." Frisk nodded along to what he said. His high prices in such a poor neighborhood may also contributed to the grocer's tight situation but Frisk wasn't going to mention it. A short goodbye and she made her way home.

"Grandmama! I'm home!" She called out.

"What a short trip! How was it?" asked Aleit excitedly.

"Empty. Practically empty. And he's getting expensive too. It's those dratted gangsters, Grandmama. They're squeezing every drop out of this place."

Frisk sighed. She had passed too many empty buildings on her way home. The neighborhood had never been a rich one yet this level of impoverishment was too much. Soon there would be no one left to pay for all the protection and then what? Likely this neighborhood would be filled in by gangsters who would make all the buildings look nice just to shoot each other in. Or there would be a sudden burst of more casinos and more hotels, hiding away secret businesses like everywhere else, swallowing up what was left of the city and spitting out the poor. A veritable playground for the rich and corrupt souls of The Big City. Aleit shook her head in disappointment at the news. 

"Shall I dance for you?" asked Frisk, wanting to make Grandmother forget the sad outside world. She turned the radio on, tuning it to just the right station. It wasn't the music she need to practice with but it was an enjoyable change. Ballet was her original trade but belly dance made more money and took less money to learn. She started her lessons from a street dancer back in the Old Country as a joke to scare her Grandmother. "The Gypsies offered to take me away. I've already had three marriage proposals and one boy gave me flowers." She had told Aleit, in the most matter-of-fact tone a twelve year could manage as she clutched her bouquet of dandelions. 

Frisk pirouetted across the floor, sweeping her arms into belly dance motions as her legs remembered ballet. Aleit clapped happily along with the music, wishing she could spin so gracefully too. 

~------~

Papyrus had eyed every single waiter, dancer, patron, and musician in the place. He bombarded Sans with questions of who looked suspicious or which guest may have let the would be assassins in. "Geez, I don't know, Paps. Let's leave it for tomorrow." he moaned out each time, taking another shot of mustard. The music had lulled him into a pleasant mood of buzzed joy and he made it point to ignore everything Paps said, trying to enjoy the final dance act of the night. 

The ride home was a different story. A disgruntled silence filled the car as Papyrus thought over his last minute phone calls to Gaster before they left the speakeasy. "We need to figure out where they came from and who let them in. A mole in the operation could ruin us!" snapped Papyrus when Sans asked if it could wait till morning. "If you weren't such a boozehound, you would be able to help me figure this out, Sans." 

Sans tried to shoot him a glare but he wasn't quite sure which Papyrus to look at it. The world spun and jolted with every pothole and bump their driver hit, twisting Sans' stomach into knots. Vaguely he could hear Papyrus giving him a lecture but between the buzzing in his head and noise from the road, it went unheeded. He practically fell out of the car when they arrived back in the frozen Underground city of Snowdin. Gaster was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, watching disapprovingly. Papyrus had rung ahead of time, notifying Gaster of the incoming conversation and drunk Sans. 

"You gotta stop doing this to yourself, kid." he simply said, hoisting Sans up along with Papyrus. Sans simply grunted, barely hearing. 

Rather unceremonsily, they dumped Sans on the couch, leaving him there for the night. "You said they were branded?" asked Gaster.

"Freshly branded, yes. Nothing else was on the bodies so I'm assuming they acted on impulse." explained Papyrus. They stood together in silence for a moment, regarding their drunk brother, before reclining back into their own respective chairs. 

"Impulse or not, it can't be denied Chara is growing bold throwing her flunkies all over the place." 

"Then we weren't the only targets tonight?" queried Papyrus, unsettled by Gaster's thoughtful expression. He received more than just a phone call from Papyrus this night. Gaster nodded to a note on the table. "It's from Asriel." He held up a hand to stopping all questions from a shocked Papyrus. "The letter is real. He wants a temporary peace treaty. I don't know what Chara is hitting them with and this isn't to unify. Just a ceasefire." 

Papyrus took his time reading it, scrutinizing each line carefully. It was handwritten and signed with Asriel's signature. The young monster wasn't in charge of the Dreemurr family but Asgore had placed him as second-in-command and he was the obvious choice to eventually succeed his father- one way or another. The letter appeared sincere enough but made no mention of the Dreemurr patriarch. "Asgore doesn't know, does he?" 

"I assume he does not." 

"Who delivered it?" asked Papyrus as he set it back on the table. 

"The only one who can get away fast enough. One of her little spiders dropped it off at the door." 

Of course it had to be Muffet. Before Papyrus could ask, Gaster said, "She left some spies." A wicked grin appeared. "Or rather tried too, anyways. I made it clear the letter was the only thing wanted." Papyrus leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his face. "This was easier when we were talking about Chara. Does Asriel expect a response?" Gaster shrugged. 

"I imagine in action only. I'll humor him. Tell me more of what happened tonight." said Gaster. He leaned back into the chair listening to his brother's story. As far as attempted assassinations were considered this incident was almost insulting mild. It was more of an attack on their pride being faced with such weak enemies. Given the lateness of the hour, Gaster and Papyrus dismissed themselves to bed, agreeing to speak more of it tomorrow. 

"Wake up, Sans!" The cold splash of water jolted him awake. In his shock, Sans snapped forward launching himself off the couch and tumbling to the floor. "Don't knock over the table, you idiot!" yelled Papyrus as Sans fumbled to a sitting position. 

"What the fucking Hell was that for?" he yelled back, struggling against the waves of nausea to stand. The instant Sans pushed up off the table his stomach lurched sending him back down. Papyrus glowered down at him. "When you can manage to not be a raging mess, Gaster wishes to discuss last night." 

As Papyrus stalked off, Sans flipped him the bird and struggled to stand. Regret mingled with the pain pounding in his skull. "Ah, shit." he muttered. He shouldn't have drank so much. 

~------~

After preparing a breakfast for Aleit, Frisk readied herself for the day. Exhaustion filled her quicker than the coffee as she'd been awoken by another coughing fit from Aleit, and spent most of the night filled with the fear her beloved Grandmama would stop breathing. Aleit was pale enough Frisk was left shaken with every glance at her. "I'll be right back, okay?" Aleit simply nodded, not really staring at her. Moving quickly, Frisk ran out of the apartment to one of the few neighbors left in the building. Her knock was met with a shaken "Hello? Who's there?" 

"It's me! I need a favor!" 

For a moment there was nothing but silence then slowly the door opened. Her neighbor was a timid young mother with a small timid child clutching at her skirt. "What's wrong?"

"Grandmama had another coughing fit last night. Can you watch her? Please?" begged Frisk. It wasn't the first time she had someone watch Aleit but each time pained her, like she had failed her grandmother. The young woman bit her lip and gave Frisk a quick look over. 

"I can pay you. It won't be a whole lot but your child is more than welcome. Grandmama loves children." 

"Alright. Shall I come over now?" she asked. 

"Call this number if anything happens, okay?" called out Frisk as she left, swinging her coat around herself. The young neighbor had stared, wide eyed at Frisk's costume. "The gold is fake." she explained with a laugh when the little child asked. The mother stared longingly at the purple silk. While she didn't say anything, Frisk knew her choli was too revealing, too scandalous, but so pretty in the eyes of her neighbor. Everyone stared enraptured at the sight of her when she threw off her coat. Frisk was certain she could make a living simply prancing up and down the stage in her outfit, a regular Mata Hari. People may have gawked at the little Flapper girls, flaunting their short skirts, flashing their knees, and winking at boys. Frisk was a whole world above them when she was in costume, long hair flying wildly behind her. She was untouchable on the stage and unknowable off of it. The air of mystery enchanting the audience, twisting them around her finger night after night. Her stomach completely exposed by a low sitting skirt with a high slit and form hugging, open back choli. She had picked purple because it was the color of royalty and more importantly, a color the rich like staring at. She worked hard for her purple silk, and the beading was proudly done by Aleit, who enjoyed creating such delicate needlework. She treasured the outfit above all her materials possessions. 

The young mother wanted the silk and beads and money and love but not the lifestyle. Never the lifestyle. All it took was the wrong speakeasy and any girl could find herself in a fate worse than death and her child in an orphanage.

Said the young mother with a wave, "Will do! I'll have dinner ready when you get back." 

She knew by the look the front desk clerk gave her, something happened. As it was still too early in the day, the speakeasy was devoid of any patrons. The stage curtain was drawn back for anyone to get in some last minute practice but she didn't see any musicians setting up. Brushing off the growing feeling of unease and unbuttoning her coat to prepare for practice, Frisk was almost to the dressing room before her name was called out. "Miss Engel! How are you?" Slims walked up to her, a wide smile across his face. Frisk's heart dropped. "Guten Morgen, sir. All is well, how are you?" Without even being able to set down her purse or re-button her coat, Slims grabbed her arm, guiding her to his office. Fear threatened to swallow her up as he opened the office door to reveal three very tall, very large, and very terrifying skeletons. "Miss Engel, allow me to introduce you to W.D Gaster," he gestured to the middle skeleton, sitting at the desk and on either side stood, "his brothers, Sans and Papyrus." 

The middle Skeleton, W.D Gaster, stood up, extending a black gloved hand towards her. "Good morning, Miss Engel. Terribly sorry to give you such a shock but I would like to personally thank you for helping to stop the plot against my brothers." Words seemed stuck in her throat, threatening to choke her. Shakily, Frisk extended her hand to shake his. Not sure what to expect, his hand was surprisingly solid and warm against her own. "I- I... of course. Ha-happy to help." she squeaked out. Grandmama Aleit always told her " _Shake hands like a man. It must firm and strong so people know_ you _are firm and solid. A firm handshake shows respect, never forget._ "

His handshake was like Aleit's, and Frisk tried to return the grip but her hand was almost swallowed by his. "Now, down to business." Slims guided Frisk down to a chair. She sat rigid, in her fear and desire to leave the office alive, all of Aleit's Victorian etiquette lessons came rushing back. " _A lady never rests her back against a chair. Don't cross your legs either. Gently rest them to one angle and keep hands folded. Keep your head raised and look them in the eye so they_ see _you are a lady._ " If Frisk truly wanted to be ladylike, she wouldn't be the only woman alone in a room with men but the thought seemed moot. She wasn't a lady dancing in a speakeasy, flaunting her body for a paycheck. She placed her purse on her lap in an effort to hide at part of herself, discomforted by the lack of proper clothing. 

Frisk did her best to maintain eye contact with Gaster but couldn't stop her eyes from wandering to stare at each brother. Papyrus appeared to wholey ignore everyone in the room as he stood at attention, keeping his dark gaze fixed on the door. As Frisk's eye shifted, Sans' pin prick lights met her own, giving a quick wink. How a skull could move like that, Frisk wasn't sure. The brothers were dressed in what must be a type of uniform as they all wore black suits with red waistcoats but each brother made the outfit his own. While Papyrus' scar appeared jagged in the bone, Gaster's were smooth, almost medical looking with one going up from an eye that reminded Frisk of a waxing moon and the other going down from the opposite eye, illuminated by a purple iris. A pleasant smile remained etched into his face as the one glowing purple eye stared back at the frightened woman. "As you can see, the problem has been dealt with for now. However there remains the issue of how they were able to get so close." 

"They said," Frisk felt like she couldn't get enough air. "Lady C. Didn't... did she not send the-them?" 

"We don't know if they were sent or acting independently of her." Gaster spoke cheerfully, as if they were discussing a favorite song or food. Despite his casual happy demeanor, Frisk couldn't help but feel like he viewed her more of a child who happened to wander across his path. "This is where you come in." The sound of Sans' chuckle as she paled at Gaster's word deepened her dismay. "All you need is to keep dancing. As a distraction. Several potential suspects will dining here tonight. Through the process of elimination, we shall have answers as to why someone thought to harm my dear brothers." 

She had an idea of what the brothers idea of a process of elimination was. The thought made her tremble but she was determined to live through tonight. "I can do that." she quietly replied.

"Fantastic. Now, Slims has made some changes to the schedule. Until our guests arrive, the speakeasy is closed and you are the only entertainment for tonight. We don't need..." Gaster paused for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "...any more collateral damage so your music will played from a record. Does this suit you?" Frisk quickly nodded, afraid of what would happen if she asked for the musicians. "You won't be performing until needed but given the severity of the situation, we require you to remain here." 

Of course she would have to remain there. By intervening in the attempted assassination, Frisk had embedded herself into a world she had only tiptoed around and she could not be allowed to run now. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest and once more, thoughts turned to Grandmama Aleit. "Sounds like a plan." she said in a cheerful voice to match Gasters. Frisk met Gaster's gaze evenly, determined to make it through this day, plotting her escape out of this damned city. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entirely unrelated to the story, Ivanhoe(1952) is a bit of a let down. I am so bored right now but I can't turn it off. I need to see how this ends but like I am also in physical levels of pain because of it. Send help, please. Elizabeth Taylor is the only thing keeping me going but she has so little screen time. At least Robert Taylor is pretty to look at but that isn't how you dual wield a dagger and sword. His whole fight scene saving Rowena is a pain. Good God, this is only a classic because of the cast. I enjoy the classical medieval movie feel but that's about it. Gosh darn I was expecting some Ladyhawke(1985) levels of epic from Ivanhoe and it's a bit of a mess. At one point he was literally in denim! Denim! Dennnniiimmmmm! screamed to the tune of Steeeellllllllllaaaaaa! I did enjoy a Streetcar Named Desire though but Vivian Leigh's mental break down really showed in her acting, poor lady.


	4. The Plot Uncovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once more, our heroine finds herself embroiled in a situation from which escape is near impossible. Secrets and spies are uncovered, leading to a shocking revelation. A single phone call forever alters the heroine's life.

Frisk sat at the little vanity, her face pressed into her hands, as she desperately tried to steady her breathing. Tears blinded her vision and she couldn't focus on anything but her grief and fear. The world had turned grey and bloody so quickly. Thoughts of escaping The Big City and the Skeleton Brothers twisted around her mind, consuming all her thoughts. She was alone now and only had herself to protect. 

~------~

  
  
The brothers dismissed Frisk, wanting to talk privately with Slims in the office. She couldn't hear what they were saying behind the door and did not wish to know. Today was already bad enough, she didn't need to hear more secret plans. Only a few waiters had arrived to the speakeasy. They were tasked with last minute cleaning and setting up the tables for the 'guests' of the Skeleton Brothers. Knowing glances passed between the staff members. Something was going down and the removal of certain paintings on the wall and decorative pieces indicated it was not expected to end peacefully. No words passed between their lips except, "Help me move this?" or "How many chairs here?"  


A record player was set up on the stage for Frisk. It wouldn't project as loud as the band but that wasn't the point in tonight's performance. She wasn't sure what the brothers were planning to do exactly. '... _a process of elimination._..' Gaster had called it. Frisk sat on the ground to stretch her legs, touching her toes and watching the speakeasy. She knew someone would die tonight but would they just start beating guests until the mole came forward? She eyed her co-workers, trying not to think the worst as she sat on the stage, stretching. Slims paid his employees well enough and he never mistreated them. He was strict, yes, but not unkind. Despite not working as much as she would like, Slims speakeasy was a safe place. It was a big reason why she stayed. Surely, no one had threatened the peace by letting in Lady C's thugs?

With a sigh, Frisk stood and turned on the record player. She needed to practice. 

It was a similar tune to what the musicians played but she chose to switch out her veil for zills. The sound of pounding Dumbeks, Riqqs, and Ouds filled the air. Swaying slowly, Frisk let the music take her away. She clapped her zills in time with the beat, sweeping her arm up her body, tip toeing along the ground. She spun, sweeping down and halfway through she lifted up into a backbend before standing upright. Up and down, up and down went her hips. She rolled her head back, snaking her arms into the air, shimmying her hips. As the beat quickened, she spun in a half circle, once more sweeping her arms up to the sky. The zills marking each motion with a sharp clack. She settled into a fast shimmy as the zills guided her feet in a circle around the stage. A short wolf whistle broke the magic.

Breathing heavily Frisk furrowed her brow as she saw Sans leering at her from front of the stage, those strange pin prick lights fixated solely on her. He rested his arms on top of the stage floor as he leaned forward. "Where'd ya learn to dance like that, girly?" Frisk made a move to turn off the music but he quickly said, "Leave it on. I'm a bit sick of all the jazz." 

"I learned from a street dancer when I was little." Frisk stated in a flat tone wishing for him to leave. 

"Oh? Don't see too many of them around. Where at?" He took a cigar out of his jacket and lit it, watching her. Hands on her hips, Frisk sighed and looked at the stage, wondering how much to tell him. 

"In the old country. It was awhile go." She got the distinct impression he was fishing for something. "Do you need something?" she asked, trying to keep her voice pleasant. 

"No, no. Just curious. You never seem to be around when my brothas and I visit." He said casually, waving the cigar in one hand as he blew the smoke out of his mouth. "All the girls are doing, what is it? The Charleston? Sumethin' like that. It's fairly boring after awhile even with all their little frilly costumes." 

"Mostly it's the Cancan the girls do here, since Mr. Slims prefers to focus on a more cabaret style of dance. Only one group does the Charleston." she explained trying not to sound disgusted at his comment, scooting ever so slightly back from him. While his only movements involved the cigar, Frisk couldn't help but feel like he was tiger, prowling along the stage edge, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

"Well I ain't gonna bite. I'm supposed to keep an eye on the stage tonight. Give me a tour, will ya?" he grumbled, hopping up onto it.

As far as Frisk could tell, he was around Slims' height- and Slims was pretty tall compared to her- but given how big Sans was, she felt more and more like a little rabbit. ' _Tigers eat rabbits don't they_?' thought Frisk as the skeleton monster approached. "I don't ever come back here and need to know where all the doors are." he explained, staring her down.

_'Right, business, business. It's all business. Calm down._ ' Out loud Frisk said softly, "Alright, follow me." Inside she cringed. ' _That was a stupid way to say it! Don't act so demure_!' She led him away from the stage front, gesturing to the dressing room and in what she thought was a more commanding voice explained, "This is for the dressing room. It has another door that leads down to the main floor." Walking to the other side of the stage, Frisk pointed, "That door is for a tunnel that leads up the warehouse section. I'm sure you're familiar with it." 

"That it?" he asked bemusedly.

"Yes." replied Frisk as she crossed her arms defensively. She knew where he was looking and wanted nothing more than to hide under a blanket. Although for as long as the Brothers had been guests there Frisk was surprised he didn't already know where all the only two doors on stage were.

"So whodunnit, you think?" Sans asked in a playful tone, side eyeing her reaction.   


' _So_ that's _what you wanted._ ' Frisk thought for a moment and curtly said, "Honestly I don't know." With a turn she walked off, trying hard to ignore the feeling of him staring at her.

  
  
He hated to see her leave but loved to watch her go. The fancy purple silk skirt swaying with her hips like water and that top. Oh boy that top! He whistled again, quietly. ' _No wonder Slims has her dancing here_.' he thought. Moving his thoughts away from impure things to murderous ones, Sans focused on the tunnel. The warehouse door topside was being watched by a couple of their own goons so he wouldn't have to worry. Gaster mostly wanted him up on the stage in case someone tried to sneak out. The music had stopped playing and he made his way to the front of the empty stage. The waiters, more familiar with his presence, only gave him a cursory glance as he eyed the speakeasy in turn. An attempted whack job wasn't that big of deal. It came with the territory but to have those thugs hiding so deep in enemy territory? He took another puff the cigar. Something wasn't right there. That was too bold a move. ' _Maybe they were just stupid. That has to be it._ ' So long as Chara's men kept their shirts closed, the only identifying marker would be hidden so they could go where they pleased.   


But the brands were fresh so maybe they were always in the brothers territory? Sans shook his head. It was a puzzle he left for Gaster. All the politics and intrigue were too tiring. It shouldn't be this complicated to smuggle goods around and kill each other. Papyrus caught his attention sitting at the booth. 

"All good?" he asked, approaching his brother. 

"Well one 'guest' pulled out of dinner tonight. " cackled Papyrus. "It wasn't someone we were even looking at seriously but this is certainly interesting."

A smirk spread across Sans' face. "That certainly is interesting, who is it?" 

"One of the alcohol suppliers who works with Grillby. The fishy looking one who might be stealing bottles." 

"Well now. Are we doing anything about it?" Though quickly compiled, all the guests were on the list for a reason.

Papyrus shrugged. "Probably not tonight. Gaster did notify Grillby about this..." Papyrus rolled out the word carefully with a wave of his hand, "situation, and Grillby can testify in the man's defense for him not being a spy but it's something to keep mind." 

Grillby was their top monster for alcohol. He made the best liquor around and it was a hot commodity with the humans long before the Prohibition struck. While Sans and Papyrus didn't know all the details, according to Gaster, there was an original formula in the works. Grillby promised it was going to hit the market with a bang, lining their pockets with both human paper and monster gold. Sans remembered Gaster coming home from the proposal, a wide smile on his face. "This is going to be huge." That had been a couple months back but Gaster was pleased with the timeframe Grillby presented. Sans didn't take it upon himself to pry. He trusted his older brother. 

"Did ya see the dancer?" Sans asked with a wicked smile. Papyrus scoffed at him. "Don't be vulgar. Your section is secure?" 

"There is only one tunnel and we already have the guys watchin' it." he replied in an annoyed tone, sliding into a chair across from Papyrus.

"How goes it?" asked Gaster, coming over to sit next to his brothers. 

"Kitchen is secure. Still only one back door to the warehouse." said Papyrus.

"The stage is fine as well." added Sans.

Gaster nodded in approval as he said, "Excellent. Then all we have to do is wait. I've been over the guest list with Slims. There's a couple people we agree on, a few we don't. Let's review, shall we?" 

  
Frisk practiced her foot work in the silence of the dressing room. She had tried once more to practice on the stage but couldn't quite bring herself to dance in front of Sans again. She was used to being leered at but he was something else entirely. The average patron could not request a dancer off the stage. Sans could. She misstepped in her contemplation and groaned. "Get it together!" Frisk hissed at herself, staring at the reflection in the vanity mirror. Her cheeks were flushed from practice and hair a little disheveled. She'd been rehearsing for a couple hours and a small tiredness had begun to set in. "Coffee." she stated to her reflection. "Let's get some coffee." 

Taking a moment to wipe her face and straighten her hair, Frisk steadied herself before wrapping her coat tightly about. There was no way she was going to let him see her in costume again until showtime. She opened the dressing room door and peeked out. The brothers were in deep discussion at the private booth over what looked like some papers. ' _Nope, nope, nope_.' she thought, eyeing each one. Frisk silently vowed to avoid them as much as possible and that included walking past them to find a waiter. Thankfully a little blonde named Olivia came out, carrying a tray of glasses for them. Trying to act casual, Frisk walked up to her after the glasses were delivered. 

"Hey, Olivia?" she asked, gently stopping the waitress. Olivia gave her a nervous smile. "What do you need, Frisk?" 

"Can I get some coffee and crackers, please?"

Olivia's face brightened. "Yea, sure. Gimme a moment." she said, waving an order ticket. A small smile crossed Frisk's face at the thought of Slims charging his bosses for a meal. Likely it was waived but she still thought it funny.

"Thank you. I'll be in the dressing room." she muttered, trying not to let her gaze drift towards a certain corner. Olivia gave her a knowing look. "Sure thing, Frisk."

It wasn't long before there was a quick knock on the dressing room door and Olivia came in with a small tray. "Oh thank you!" exclaimed Frisk, grateful for the coffee. Olivia sat down next to her on the floor, nervously playing with the tray. "H-hey. Um. Frisk." Olivia peeked up at her. "Can I tell you something?" Frisk gave a sound of confirmation as she drank the coffee. 

"So Mister Slims gave all of us a little idea of what's going on. Um, I think I'm in trouble." Olivia picked at the floor, not staring at Frisk.

"What do you mean?" Frisk asked, hoping Olivia was not about to say the worst possible thing.

"That was my beau."

Frisk's felt her heart drop to the center of earth as she stared Olivia. "Who was your beau?" she asked wide eyed, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"One of the guys from.... from Monday. We'd only been going together for a few weeks but I'm in trouble. I know I'm in trouble Frisk. " she whispered back, her voice thick fear. "I didn't join up or anything but he told me what was goin' on. I didn't think much of it but a few regulars aren't so regular anymore. I..." Olivia paused staring plaintively at Frisk. "Oh Frisk! You can't tell! They were taking people to Lady C." 

"Don't tell me anymore!" Frisk whispered frantically back. "I-I don't need to know!" 

"But I have to! Please, I don't know what else to do! Mister Slims is so nice to you and I know one of the people comin' here tonight is gonna squeal on me!" Tears flooded into Olivia's eyes as she begged, "Please, I need help."

Not wanting to know more but unsure of how else to proceed, Frisk asked, "What is going? Olivia, I need to know, please." Her hands trembled as she grabbed the waitress's. 

"I don't know much but Steven, my....um, he said Lady C was sending people out to get more people, sneaky like. They were being taken back to Lady C because of something bad, I think. I don't know what and he didn't tell me. But they were takin' people back to her only they couldn't take people outta her territory otherwise it'd be too hinky. So they wanted to come here because I said the brothers like comin' here and they needed the code to get in. When they saw how ritzy this place is they wanted to get some information and people. I didn't know they were gonna tryta bump the brothers, honest!" 

"You let them in?!"

Olivia nodded sadly, the weight of the world slouching her shoulders forward. "Why did you do this?" asked a horrified Frisk. The sad woman shrugged. "I dunno. Wanted to impress 'em, I guess." 

Frisk's breath came in short bursts as she sat back. Adrenaline rushed through her body as she pondered what all this meant. "The... the person you said was coming in tonight? Who are they? Are you sure they're going to tell the brothers?" 

"I don't think they'll have a choice. It's one of Steven's friends who wasn't really in the gang but still helped them. They paid him and if the brothas are gonna do what I think is gonna happen, he'll tell. Just to save his own skin. " Olivia spat bitterly.

The two women sat in silence, each pondering her own situation. Frisk opened her mouth several times but quickly closed it. Even if Olivia managed to get out of the speakeasy, it wouldn't matter because the friend could still rat her out. "Maybe I can say I was forced?" offered Olivia. "You think it'd work?" 

"I don't know. They aren't exactly known for mercy." remarked Frisk. "You need to get out of town, Olivia."

Silence fell over them again. "Don't tell, okay?" she asked as she left. Frisk had no answers for her.   
  


The conversation with Olivia weighed heavily on her mind. There was still some time before the 'guests' were set to arrive but every minute passed so quickly. Frisk didn't know what to do or how to even help the doomed waitress. The only real answer was to leave The Big City and hope Olivia was unimportant enough to be left alone despite being the catalyst to attempted assassination. Frisk didn't even want to ponder what Olivia had said about the disappearing regulars. The secret danced around her mind and she was worried somehow the brothers would read it when she went on stage. Frisk paced back and forth in the dressing room feeling more locked in than when she heard the men in the bathroom. "She could say she was forced. It might work." Frisk muttered aloud as she paced. "Maybe say they were going to kill her? No, no that won't work. Why didn't she say anything after they were dead?" A knock caused Frisk to give a small yip.

From behind the door she heard Olivia's voice once more. "Frisk? It's me. Can I come in?" Frisk rushed to the door, tempted to press against it to keep Olivia out. Instead, she opened it to regard the waitress. "Come in." Olivia rushed in, tears spilling down her face. "Oh Frisk! I don't have a plan. Do you?" she cried. 

"Sssh! Keep your voice down!" Frisk whispered frantically, fearful of being overheard. 

"The brothers are in Mister Slims office an-" 

"Then run! Why are you in here? Leave!" Frisk shook the frightened woman by the shoulders. "Get out of here!"

Olivia shook her head. "The front desk man!" 

"Who cares just run!" hissed Frisk, trying desperately to convince the woman. This was the moment to leave and instead, Olivia made another bad decision by coming to see Frisk. "Go now before you miss your chance." She pushed Olivia back towards the door. As she whipped it open, both women froze staring at Slims, one hand raised to knock. A confused look crossed his face as he stared at the wide eyed women. Giving a quick cough, "Ladies. I trust everything is alright?" Frisk could have slapped Olivia as the woman fell to her knees sobbing, dooming herself. Staring at the pitiful woman, Frisk decided to take action, determined to help. "Sir, Olivia has something important she needs to discuss with you." He raised an eyebrow at her then down at Olivia. 

"I-I- I did it!" she wailed. 

"She.. she had to get an abortion!" Frisk licked lips nervously praying Olivia would go along with it, "She was crying to me because she is ashamed and hurt! She needs to go home!" 

Slims held up his hand to silence Frisk. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and hide. Slims kneeled down in front of Olivia, scrutinizing her carefully. "Is this true?" Olivia stared at the floor as she let out a weak "No." 

The hardening on Slims' face told Frisk the woman's fate. He jerked up to stare at Frisk. "What is going on?" 

"It's true. It..it's... true." Frisk stammered. Slims sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Olivia. Get up." The sobbing woman shook her head pathetically and cried out as Slims grabbed her arm. Looking at Frisk, he said, "This is about what happened Monday isn't it? Next time, come straight to me." Frisk nodded, the lump in her throat preventing her from speaking. Slims manhandled the crying Olivia to her feet, gripping her shoulders and pushing her over to his office. 

A cold feeling of calm passed over Frisk as she watched Olivia get drug off. She didn't dare follow them out to watch Olivia's final moments. The other waiter stood by the phone next to the kitchen, staring back and forth between Frisk and Slims pushing the sobbing Olivia.

Frisk sank to the floor in the doorway holding her face in her hands, trying not to scream. 'Stupid girl, stupid stupid girl.' Whether she meant herself or soon-to-be-dead Olivia, she didn't know. 

"Hey, um, ah Frisk? You have a phone call waiting." a voice said. 

"Wha?" she looked up at the other waiter, hovering awkwardly above her. "Oh, okay." Standing shakily, Frisk didn't bother to explain what happened as she pushed past them, making her way to the phone. "Hallo?" she asked, timidly. 

"Oh good! I was so afraid they wouldn't get you! Frisk, it's Aleit. She is um... I already called the hospital and someone is coming but she, um, she wasn't.... she wasn't breathing. I'm so sorry. Can you come back please? I'm so sorry, Frisk. Really I am."

A nervous giggled bubbled up in Frisk. "Yes. Yes. I'm coming. I'll be there soon." Without waiting for a response, Frisked set the phone down. Numb to the world around her, she walked back to the dressing room, ignoring the hallway to the office and the people leaving it. Vaguely she could hear someone calling her name but refused to acknowledge them. She grabbed her purse and coat and turned to see Slims' infuriated face. "Miss Engel! Did you not hear me?" he asked angrily. 

"I'm leaving. Grandmother is dead." It was so horribly easy to say. 

"You can't leave." 

"Well I am!" she screamed.

A tense silence filled the space between them. "You can't leave. They still want to follow through with the plan." Slims explained, his voice teetering on the edge of rage. She stared at him evenly, letting her own rage get to her. "I. Am. Leaving." She took a step forward with each word. He blocked the door. "Slims, move." she gritted her teeth together.

"Enough of thi-"

"Move!" She screamed again. Frisk felt an odd burst from her chest and Slims stumbled back, eyes wide in confusion. Not bothering to figure out what just happened, Frisk made a dash for the front door. Before she could touch the first step leading up, a rush of cold paralyzed her.

"Now human, let's calm down. You don't want to end up like your friend." said a voice behind her.

For a brief moment, fear held her still more than the cold burning at her soul. "I said," Frisk started gathering her courage, "Let me go!" Another burst as she screamed the words and the cold hold was gone. She tumbled forward onto the stairs. The realization of what she did causing her to collapse. Looking back she saw the shocked faces of Papyrus and Sans. Strange of all, somehow Gaster looked delighted. ' _Oh God._ ' she thought, wanting to rise but her legs wouldn't move. 

"Now this is truly unexpected. Slims, you didn't tell me she could use magic." said Gaster, amused by this turn of events. They found the mole, a few enemies would be conveniently eliminated, and the little dancer was a rare magical human. He had sensed it but wasn't quite sure when she had walked into the office, her magic mostly taking a passive form of protection, making her appear charming and unthreatening. She was the ultimate prize of the night for Gaster knew just what to do with her.

Frisk suddenly found herself gently being hoisted up and marched back to the dressing room. "Now, Miss Frisk, once our present business has been attended to, you and I need to have a little chat." explained the calm voice of Gaster, setting her at the vanity chair in the dressing room. Looking up at him, she asked pleading, "What do you mean I used magic? Humans can't do that." He patted her head as if she was a small child. "Only a rare few who have enough determination to try."

The door shut and Frisk threw her arms over the vanity, sobbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some 1920s goodness:  
> +Flapper by Joshua Zeitz is a good book for a backstory on F.Scott Fitzgerald and the origins of flappers. It's an informative and compelling read. I'm only about halfway through the book but it's really good.   
> +Oscar(1991) starring Sylvester Stallone, Ornella Muti, and Tim Curry is absolutely hilarious. It's about a gangster trying to go straight. Shenanigans ensue. So. Many. Shenanigans. 10/10 will watch until the day I die.   
> +Angel on my Shoulder(1946) starring Paul Muni, Anne Baxter, and Claude Rains is hilarious and heartwarming. It's about a gangster brought back to life by the Devil in the body of a judge. Lots of shenanigans ensue, Claude Rains make a great devil, and the ending is great. 10/10 really want to watch again.  
> +1920s ORIGINAL CHARLESTON SONGS, JAZZ COMPILATION from germany to the usa (HOT) playlist on YouTube is great background music for writing this story.   
> \+ The playlist La Vie Parisienne: French Chansons From the 1930s & 40s Edith Piaf, Reinhardt & Grappelli on YouTube has amazing music. It's about 10 years too old for the time period I'm working in but very enjoyable, regardless.   
> \+ Yearning (feat. Fathi Aljarah) by Raul Ferrando is my favorite belly dance song. It's incredibly enchanting.


	5. Dance till They're Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine finds herself employed by new persons, who to assist in the discovery of her new powers. As the old saying goes: "Out of the pot and into the frying pan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am no longer furloughed! I am filled with elation and sadness. Since I'm back to working and still doing school, chapters are going to take a little longer to come out. The goal is one chapter every 10-12 days, if not sooner. At some point I am going to take a break to go back and fix up little spelling errors I find in previous chapters. I know they are numerous and will be dealt with.  
> \+ Penelope starring Natalie Wood is amazing. 10/10. Massively hilarious.   
> \+ North by Northwest directed by Alfred Hitchcock is 10/10. A little slow initially but totally worth it.

The sound of yelling had drawn the brothers out of the office. The little blonde waitress had been shoved in there by Slims, who sputtered something off about the dancer and left. The waitress quickly broke down, explaining her role in the attempted assassination. She wasn't the first dumb moll to meet the same fate as her boyfriend and wouldn't be the last. Before they could consider what she had meant by regulars being taken to Chara, shouting from the front drew them out of the office. A small burst of magic caused a pause in their steps. The dancer went darting past the hallway, almost to the front door when Papyrus stopped her, freezing the tiny human's soul in place. 

"Now human, let's calm down. You don't want to end up like your friend." had said Papyrus, confident in his ability to keep her still. Another burst of magic knocked away Papyrus' grip on her. Monsters, made out of magic, were born with innate abilities, mostly manifesting through combat. Humans with magic were exceptionally rare and more often than not, their abilities were passive, creating protective shields to make themselves unthreatening- an effect so subtle, Gaster barely noticed in the office when she walked in. Yet this little human had managed to take her magic, project it, creating a small shock wave(twice!), and disrupting Papyrus' hold on her. Gaster would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed, a magical human would be a boon to their operations, especially if her power could be controlled beyond the passive state. 

The dancer stared at the brothers, appearing as shocked as they were by this turn of events. Thankfully she made no move to run so Gaster decided to take the lead, and carefully stood her up.

"Now, Miss Frisk, once our present business has been attended to, you and I need to have a little chat." he explained, guiding her to the vanity chair in the dressing room. Dazed, she asked "What do you mean I used magic? Humans can't do that." Giving her head a little pat, Gaster replied, "Only an exceptional few who have enough determination to try." The limits of her abilities would need to be tested but now was not the time for that. Gaster rounded on Slims, as he exited the dressing room, staring hard at the old human. "Did you know she could use magic?" he asked slowly.

Slims' eyes darted to the dressing room. He had seen the way the patrons watched her, heard the way she was talked about. He knew there was something special beyond her dancing skills which so captivated the audience. He'd been careful to keep Frisk out of the speakeasy when the brothers were invited, in case his suspicions were correct. If Frisk did have some sort of magical hold over people, then he wanted her on _his_ stage.

But the cat was out of the bag now and like the dead waitress in his office, Slims now had to deal with the consequences of his secrecy. Knowing it was better to face Gaster head on, Slims replied, "I had my suspicions." 

"Yet you said nothing?" The smile never left Gaster's face. A low "Oh boy." came from Sans behind him. Slims had a sinking feeling his partnership with the brothers had just come to an abrupt end.

"I am not unsympathetic to your plight, Miss Frisk, however you must understand the unique position you find yourself in." explained Gaster, crouching down in front of her. In all his time working on the surface, he'd only come across few humans with magic. Gaster studied her face closely, looking for signs of it reappearing. "You have an amazing gift. In all my time on the surface, I've never personally met a human who could use magic."

Despite her newfound magic, Frisk felt more helpless than ever. Voices from the main floor had been raised before the skeleton had come in and she was certain her employment with Slims had ended. Thoughts of the empty apartment weighed heavily, pushing her further into despair. She couldn't understand how quickly everything had turned so dark. 

"I want to go home." she whispered, fighting back tears. 

"Soon you shall. Our business tonight has not yet concluded as there are still loose ends which still need to be tied up." 

Frisk bit her lip, wanting nothing more than to run. She didn't know how to create the bursts of magic or what had triggered them in the first place. She'd been so mad at all them. Mad at this life. Mad at the city. Mad at herself. Now there was unending emptiness and she couldn't even be alone long enough to grieve. 

Whatever was said between Gaster and Slims, the conversation did not end in Slims' favor. Frisk knew this for a fact when Gaster said excitedly, "You have outgrown this place, Miss Frisk. I am offering you an opportunity to expand your power. To rise above so many others and realize your true potential." Frisk peeked up at the skeletal gangster. "I can't say no, can I?" The damned smile never left his face but a small flick of movement around his eyes, narrowing them ever so slightly, gave her the impression of a predator.

"I do not recommend you do." He replied, the threat laid bare. "Dance for your life tonight. I do not want our guests to think anything is amiss." 

A heaviness pressed in on Frisk, almost suffocating her as he left. The feeling of being trapped returned with a crushing wave of anxiety and fear. Her heart ached for her grandmother and guilt ripped at her for leaving Aleit to die with a stranger. Frisk was supposed to be there. She was supposed to take care of her. She was supposed to be there. Stifling a cry, Frisk collapsed to the floor wrapping her arms around herself. "I want to go home." She pleaded to the empty air.

Sans carefully pushed the open door to peek in. The dancer sat the vanity on the floor, knees pulled up to her chest and her face hidden in her arms. _'Great, just fuckin' fantastic. Leave me with the crying dame_ .' he thought angrily. He hated watching a lady cry. Taking care of the sobbing waitress was one thing- she chose to get involved with one of Chara's men in enemy territory- the pretty little dancer who prevented the ambush, was another. Since he was already set to watch the backstage area, Gaster had placed Sans in charge of the little lady. "Ahm, dollface?" Her tear streaked face rose up to meet his. _'Goddamnit_.' 

While the mole was taken care of, they didn't have any room for error with the other 'guests'. Sans crouched down next to the dancer, hoping being eye level with her was less intimidating. Her slight shift backwards told him that was not the case. Trying to maintain a level of professionalism, Sans kept his eyes averted from the low cut choli and explained, "Look, the plan is to act like everything is normal. You'll do three songs and exit to the tunnel. I'm supposed ta' take you home too so you won't be leavin' until," he paused, thinking of how best to say it, "Business is concluded. Then night over." 

"Just like that?" she asked quietly.

"Yep. That easy." 

Frisk didn't say a word as the callous statement cut through her. She needed to survive tonight. She needed to plan. But being here so, close to all of _them_ made it hard to think. She watched him carefully as he grabbed her stuff to "Move it over the by tunnel since after your set, that's when the fun begins and I don't think you'll want to delay leaving." She shuddered at the thought of what was going to happen. ' _Focus. Just dance. Dance, dance, da_ -' 

"Get ready, girly. The show is about to start." 

Frisk positioned herself on the stage, numbing her mind and emotions. The curtain drew up revealing the crowd of people. The music clicked on and Frisk did just what she was told. She danced for her life, all smiles and twirls and dazzling shimmies. Frisk could feel his eyes burning into her back. 

' _Finally get to see what all the jabber is about._ ' thought Sans, feeling a little regretful he couldn't watch from a table. No doubt a few of the more perspective guests were wondering why only one brother was visible. 

She let the music carry her away from the speakeasy to that crowded street where she had first learned to belly dance, much to the delight of the woman as Frisk mimicked her steps and clapped to the music. 

Purple was definitely her color. Passive magic or no, she had a way of making the air shimmer around her. With her twirls and smiles, Sans understood why Slims was so reluctant to let her go. He wouldn't give her up so willingly either. 

Frisk could almost hear the people cheering along as she danced, the smell of the hot humid summer air and blooming flowers all around her. The music swept her away to a happier place in time when the world was so bright and new to her young eyes.

Sans wondered if anyone ever brought her flowers. The speakeasy wasn't exactly a ballet theater but she deserved something for the way she danced. ' _There is no way she has a spine.'_ he marveled at her back bend and how easily she managed to twist and turn back upright.

She leaned backwards, arching low, thrusting her arms out as a counterbalance. Drawing upward, Frisk twirled into the next song, rapidly shimmying to the beat. 

A feeling of relaxation and joy washed over Sans, ' _This must be her magic_ ', despite the increased pace of the song. If he was down in the audience, he would've told Gaster anything, just to be able to keep watching her dance. Judging by the looks of some of the people, he knew he wasn't alone. Despite her slim frame, she had quite the set of hips on her. ' _Quite an ass too._ ' he amused, thoroughly ignoring the audience. Whatever misgivings some people had about being here, Sans knew they weren't thinking of leaving now. No, they were trying to keep up with her hips and hoping she would look at them. 

Frisk's final bow brought her back to the smoky, stagnant air of speakeasy. For a moment her smile faltered as she stared at the clapping crowd before rushing off, wondering how many were going to survive the night. 

As promised, Sans greeted her by tunnel, coat and purse in hand. "What d'ya say?" He teased, holding her coat out of reach. Her breathing was still hard as she stared up at him, an incredulous look on her face, cheeks flushed from dancing. Sans thought about swinging her over his shoulder and carrying her around, just to make the night more amusing for himself. 

"Can I have my coat?"

"So close! Not quite right, sweetheart." He replied with a chuckle.

She bit her lip, tears clouding over her eyes again. "Please can I have my coat?" She asked quietly, fighting back the tears. All she wanted was for the day to end.

' _Dammit, cryin' again.'_ A quick cough to clear his throat, he handed them to her. "Sure thing, dollface." If she kept those tears up, Sans felt like he was going to be in trouble. Pretty crying dames just had a way of getting to him. He felt a bit of regret as she slung her coat on, engulfing her body in powdery pink cotton. Now he had nothing to look at. ' _At least she's has a pretty face. A regular little Sheba._ ' 

"Ladies first." He said with a grinned, holding the tunnel door for her. 

Frisk wanted the cold and dreary rain back to match her mood. Instead, the spring sun lingering lazily on the horizon, taking it's time setting and throwing out a few final golden rays. Frisk was a little shocked to see two dog monsters eyeing her and Sans as they emerged from the tunnel. They gave a curt nod and said, "So far all quiet."

A black car sat at the edge of the warehouse and Sans guided her over to it. "Now, stay right here. I don't think my brother will let it slide if you try to run again, ya know?" he said, letting his voice go dark as he leaned into the car. He wasn't sure how much leniency Gaster would give her but what he did know was her novelty with his brother would eventually run dry, and how she would be treated after that was something he didn't care to think about. She looked like such a small thing, squished against the seat, staring at him like a delightfully frightened rabbit. For a brief moment he wondered how she saw him. Sans pushed away from the car, slamming the door shut. 

"O-okay." Frisk muttered. She winced as the door slammed. Thankful for a moment of silence, she slid back against the seat. Frisk didn't care that she barely had any money to her name or her change in employment. She didn't care about her newfound magic. She didn't care about the dogs watching her or even what was about to happen in the club. Heaving sobs wracked her body as she thought of her grandmother. 

"I need to...I need c-call the hospital. I can get her ashes. I'll take her s-somewhere nice." Frisk took deep breaths, trying to steady herself. Over and over, she went through the plan. Go home. Call the hospital. Get the ashes. Get out of the city. She didn't have a particular place in mind. They'd always talked about moving to the countryside, having a small cottage with a large garden. They would get chickens and a goat and Frisk would finally get a horse. 

Feeling calmer, she sat back, steadying herself. She would get a normal job at a normal place where there were no gangsters. She would never hear another assassination plot again. She would never pay for another damned 'protection' fee again.

She would be free and happy. 

~-------~

The jolt of the car door snapped her wide awake. For a moment Frisk didn't remember where she was and she certainly didn't remember falling asleep. "Have a nice nap?" Sans asked, almost mockingly. While they were expecting at least one spy, it turned out more than a few of their supposed human allies were playing sides. The human working the dead waitress squawked like a songbird, dooming several of his cohorts. They weren't just from Chara. One was spying for the Dreemurrs and as much as Sans wanted to snap his neck, they did have a temporary ceasefire with Asriel. Of course that didn't mean he couldn't rough the guy up, giving him a good taste of what would happen if he ever came back. For the remaining bunch, it was a good reminder not to double cross the brothers. 

Thankfully she hadn't tried to run away. The dogs kept a close eye on her and anyone who might've tried to slip in- or out- through the back. It had been an all day operation preparing to deal with the 'guests' and he wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. But first, he had to get the little dancing lady home. Sans was rather surprised to see her passed out in the car, slumped over the seat. She shot up as the door opened, her big brown eyes going wide as sleep left them. 

Frisk pressed herself into the corner, moving as far away from him as possible. He tapped on the partition for the driver to leave, trying not to notice her discomfort. Sans leaned back into the seat for a moment, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back wall. Looking down at her from the corner of his eye, she was practically shaking like a mouse and biting back tears. Gaster had given him a brief talking to about her. Her grandmother had died today and as far as anyone knew, she was alone. "Well this has been a shit day." he remarked. She didn't acknowledge him. They sat next together, in awkward silence as Sans stared at Frisk, who stared at her shoes. 

"So we uh, didn't quite meet properly." He held out his hand to her. "I'm Sans. Sans the skeleton." 

With a nervous smile on her face, Frisk carefully extended her hand to his. "I'm Frisk Engel." Her skin was smooth against his bones, her touch electrifying. She pulled her hand back far too quickly for his liking. Subtlety not being his strongest suit, Sans had to play it carefully as he explained what was going to happen. "So, you're working for us now. Me brother is giving you a couple days to," Panic set in, he was tired and did not want to make her start crying again, "To ah, settle your affairs. Then we'll be around to discuss the terms of employment and that'll be that." He watched her face closely. Her eyes didn't fog up and he let out a mental sigh of relief. "Oh and you're getting paid for tonight." Reaching into his breast coat pocket, he pulled out an envelope. "Think of this as a final cut from Slims and down payment for future serrrr-performances!" He cursed himself at the near slip. Calling her dances ' _services_ ' was not the word he was looking for. There had been other girls, at the other places, who tried to do what she did, tried to shimmy and shake themselves like her. But they came down from the stage and their little hips twists often led them to someone's lap. She didn't come down from the stage like that but the way her magic manifested as she danced, acted as a whole other kind of service. Sans hadn't felt that relaxed sober in years, much less while on a job. 

She didn't open the envelope or question her luck. Depending on how much was inside, she could buy a train ticket all the way to the other side of the country. Frisk murmured a quick "Thank you." and shoved it into her purse. She would count it later and figure out where to go after she had Aleit's ashes. 

"So you work at Slims long?" Sans asked, trying to fill the silence. 

"Six years."

"Mm-hm. Ya know, we didn't even know he had an exotic dancer until a few years ago." 

"It wasn't a consecutive six years." Frisk cringed on the inside. She wished he would stop talking. Her head had started to hurt from all the crying and an aching weariness had been slowly creeping into her bones. Relief washed through her as the old brick building came into view. Sans sized the building up before letting her out of the car. "You live in that?" he asked, jerking his thumb at it. Frisk just stared at him, not sure if she should be insulted by his tone. 

"Thank you for the ride home and good night, sir." she stated in the most proper tone she could manage. 

He knew, despite the polite tone and way she held herself, the little dancer was going to run. Before she could disappear into the depths of the building, "Don't try it, dollface. We still have eyes on you." he warned, letting a malicious grin slip onto his face. Frisk stiffened and turned to face him. 

"Eye, eye, sir. Promise eye'll stay in town." she called back. 

A triumphant grin greeted his dumbfounded expression.

"That was corny-ea!" he shouted as the door closed.

Damn girl was getting to him. Sans sighed and rubbed his neck bones. If he was being honest with himself, Frisk had already been staying rent free in his head from the moment he saw her.

"In all the speakeasies hidden in this big city, she had to dance in that one." 


	6. On Your Mark, Get Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As our heroine grieves, she grows witty and strong. Determined to survive, she plans for the long game and awaits an escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Chapter 6! I'm attempting to lengthen the chapters instead of short bursts in the hopes everything flows better. Please let me know if the longer chapters are prefered over a shorter format.  
> \+ The Amazing Dr. Clitterhouse(1938) is a great crime comedy. Yes, the name is funny. Humphrey Bogart= Amazing.  
> \+ Jean Harlow died too soon and I love her dearly.   
> \+ The Invention of Trousers by the Deutsches Archäologisches Institut is a good documentary on 3,000 year old pants. Yes, you read that correctly. It's truly entertaining and informative.  
> \+ Double Harness(1933) starring Ann Harding and William Powell is an excellent movie if you want to see some early 1930s fashion. The are a great many similarities between '20s and early '30s fashion and hairstyles. You can see this in the outfits Ann Harding wears as well as how her hair is done. It's not bobbed but braided/bunned up in the back with the front being tucked shorter to give the illusion of a bob. I highly recommend because it's an entertaining movie and a great example of aforementioned fashion periods. My only complaint is the the ending just sort of ends rather abruptly. Like this note which I am ending now so go enjoy Chapter 6.

It would three days before she could get the ashes. The Brothers, or at least one of them, would be coming back around today to move her to a different location. There was no time to get out of the city. Not like she could anyways without Aleit's ashes. She rubbed her eyes taking in the sight of the little apartment that had been her home for 14 years, one last time. Gaster had been painfully vague on the details but she knew her new home was in a nicer part of town with proper clubs, and higher stakes. Feeling all cried out she sat in front of the window, staring out at that broken street.

~------~

Gaster had come for her yesterday but she hardly had time, running to the funeral home to set up arrangements and pay for the cremation. Frisk didn't realize how much bureaucracy went into dealing with the dead and had to rush back home to get the proper paperwork. As she had been running out the door to a meeting with the funeral director about the cremation, the brother's black car was pulling up to her building. Frisk, in a hurry, barely paused in her step as she turned to shout out, "I have to meet a funeral director! I'll be back soon!" but as soon as she turned around, Frisk found herself face to face with the near ever present grin of W.D Gaster.

"And where did you say you were going?"

"Ah! Mein Gott!" she cried, almost smashing into him. "I-I have to get back there. The papers!" she said breathlessly, fumbling to pull them out of her purse. "I forgot them." Frisk did a double take at the car behind her. "How did you do that?" She asked in breathless bewilderment.

"Teleportation, my dear. Would you like a ride?"

The question had caught her off guard but she nodded. "I'm sorry! I went earlier but didn't realize all these papers were needed. I had to get proof of the address and- and..." Frisk trailed off, trying to numb back down. It was easier if she thought of everything as little impersonal tasks to complete, like going to the grocers or mailing off a bill, and getting a ride would give her less time dwell on what was.

"Which one is it?" he asked, lowering the partition partly so she could see the driver. 

"Um, it's the one on 4th street, across from the bakers." she said. In a burst of dark humor when Frisk had first arrived at the funeral home, she laughed at where bread was baked across the street, people were thrown into an oven too. A quick glance at Gaster and she decided not to tell him her little joke. Bitter dark chocolate humor is what Aleit called her morbid jokes, so delightfully awful were they. She quickly threw the thought of her grandmother out of her mind.

"Are the arrangements coming along well enough?"

"Yes. Mostly. After this it shouldn't take too long but I guess there's a queue." she explained. 

"Do you have other family?" 

He was fishing for information and she knew it. Questions about family would lead into where she came from, where were her parents, when did they immigrate, dancing, speakeasies. New job. New rules. A new cage. She felt so tired of all the lies and hidden intentions. "No, I don't have any family. We... I, um back in the old country had some but after the war, there weren't any letters. I don't think they're around." 

"Hm, and you learned to dance there?" 

Didn't Sans ask the same thing? Why didn't he tell Gaster? "Back in the old country, from a street dancer. I was taking ballet but dropped it after coming back."

"I see."

He didn't say anything further and Frisk couldn't read his face. She found herself worried, like mayhaps something wrong was said. Feeling very much at his mercy, especially since today was the day they were to discuss the terms of her new employment, not take her to a funeral home. She needed to say something, to gauge what he was thinking but before Frisk could open her mouth, Gaster said, "Given the recent turn of events for you, I think it best if you are moved somewhere a bit more suitable. Your magic in it's passive form is rather unique in how it manifests, something that could clearly be seen at your performance, if one was looking for it." he explained. "While your skills as a dancer are no doubt empyreal, I think you could be used in other ways."

"What to do you mean?" asked Frisk, feeling a rising nervousness.

"Your magic- ah we are here."

With the properwork in order and payment finalized, Frisk walked out of the funeral home with a strange sense of lightness. In four days she would have the ashes and it would be over. Easy as that. She thought it so callous when Sans had made that remark about the speakeasy but it was a phrase she found herself thinking more and more. Little easy bite size tasks so she wouldn't have to think beyond the next goal. 

Paperwork and payment complete. 

Finish talking to the new employer. 

Go home and don't think. 

Silently, she entered the car, preparing herself for the conversation. 

"All is well?" was the simple question. Frisk nodded. "Excellent. Then, as I was saying your magic, manifests mostly through your performances but it does appear outside of it. From what has been observed, which I must say has not been much, human magic is primarily passive and defensive. It makes the human appear friendly and charming and is strengthened by any actions of the same intentions. In short, a sunny disposition is magnified and strengthened by the magic and vice versa." 

Frisk thought for a moment before it clicked together. "You want me to spy? Not dance?" 

"A little of both. I think having you mingle after performances would be most productive. Never fear, it's not a task you'll be doing alone as someone will always be assigned to you for protection. Primarily, I wish to make use of your talents in neutral territory, where there is more information to be gained. Although as a test run, I do have several safer places in mind." he went, ignoring her sinking expression. Spying was the last thing Frisk wanted to do and she couldn't begin to understand what her magic entailed. Realizing he was waiting for a response, Frisk said, "I, ah, is there like... a book? On magic? Or something because I don't, I don't quite understand it. All I have to do is be nice?" 

"To put it simply, yes and yes. Although you will preferably be conscious of your behavior in order to maximize the effects." She caught the slight warning in his tone. This wasn't about being nice, it was about manipulation others through perceived kindness and charm for whatever gain he had in mind. A voice in the back of Frisk's mind dared her to try it now. 

"I understand, sir." she replied, sitting up a little straighter, slightly positioning herself towards him so as to appear more attentive. "When do I start?" 

"Shortly but first, it would be most preferable to have you in a safer neighborhood. While I'm sure you have lived here mostly unharmed, tempting fate is never wise." 

It had been something she thought of. Frisk knew she wouldn't-couldn't- stay in the neighborhood for much longer. Everyday the streets were a little more bare, buildings a little more empty. It would truly be a relief to leave even if it was to another part of the city. "Where to?" she asked softly. 

~------~

The hard knock on the door caused her to jolt back from the window. She blinked, coming out of her silent reflection, and hurried over to it. "I'm coming! Hold on!" she called out. "Hurry up, willya?" She opened the door to face a disgruntled Sans. "Your joke was corny-ea." he said flatly. She couldn't the wry grin that spread across her face. " _Eye_ know." He huffed. "Now I know how Paps feels. Well, what I am lifting?" He asked, pushing past her into the little apartment. Instead of his black and red work suit, he wore a plain blue one, rolling up the sleeves of the coat and white shirt underneath to prepare for some heavy lifting. Frisk grabbed all of her two suitcases. One held the much beloved purple costume, the other filled with only a little clothes and toiletries. "Just the box of books and the blanket on top of it." 

"This is it?" he mildly surprised.

"Yes. This is it." said Frisk. Her whole life in two suitcases and a box of Aleit's books. Frisk had donated the clothes, not daring to keep any. The books were something they both enjoyed and the blanket was the last thing she had from the family across the ocean. While their material items had always been small, packing them up like this was strangely disconcerting. This was it. A strange feeling of detachedness came over her as she stepped away from the old brick building. 

"You alright?" 

Frisk meant to say yes but the words were caught in her throat. "Ah shit, don't do that." Frisk tried to apologize for all the tears, wiping them away but she couldn't stop. "Here, let me." Sans yanked a kerchief out of his breast pocket to wipe her tears away. "Look, you aren't in trouble. I don't know what my brother said to ya but you're just being moved to a nicer place." he muttered gruffly. 

"I k-know." she cried. Gaster talked to her like a child and now Sans was wiping her face like one. "It's all gone now." 

Sans thought it was a little odd she didn't bob her hair like other girls when he first met her. Most women hacked it off as a show of independence yet Frisk's hair had survived the declaration of independent womanhood, growing long and soft as it cascaded in gentle waves down her back. With her long cream colored dress, she looked like a lost soul from a bygone era mourning for all that was no more. He pushed her hair back away from her face saying, "Hey now don't feel so tearible." 

"That's an awful thing to say right now!" Frisk declared, stamping her foot, but the pun did make her feel better, yanking her gently away from the pain.

"Yea well bursting out inta' tears like that on a fella is a pretty awful thing to do, sweetheart!" Sans huffed, pulling back from her. Just for good measure is what he told himself when he wiped away the last of tears. Really it was for the touch of her skin and jolt of excitement it sent through his arm. It was a feeling Sans didn't want to end. "We're on a timetable missy, so no more delays." He said guiding her to the car.

"Where exactly are we going?" 

"You know the buildings next to the botanical garden near downtown?" 

Frisk's eyes widened, she knew exactly where that was. "We are going there?" she asked excitedly. 

"Yep. It's not a big place but my brother got you hooked up with a nice little studio. The main point is that it's safer there and a lot easier for us to get too." 

"You live far?"

"Still beneath Mount Ebott. In our home city. There's an access tunnel to the Underground in downtown we have control over."

Frisk sat back in the car, feeling a bit happy. Whilst she adored the botanical gardens and surrounding museums, the train station was closer. She had resolved to play the game a little longer, to save up as much money as she could. With grief clearing from her mind, she knew taking off without a plan or any way to support herself would lead to another bad situation and it was a situation she had thus far been able to avoid. The only downside Frisk could think of was the information she may become privy too- they might chase her down to ensure their secrets remain unknown. It wasn't a possibility she wanted to think off as she planned on running very far away. 

"Say, you like jazz?" Sans asked suddenly. 

"What? I guess it's alright. Gran- well we- I mean, I listen to classical mostly. For dancing. Ah, why do you ask?"

"Just curious." An awkward silence filled the air. Frisk wasn't sure what to say. So far she had truly only met two of three Brothers and both were incredibly different. She was certain Gaster could talk forever if given the chance, just keep asking questions and he would always have an answer. The way he talked and acted came across as so clinical and precise, she could see why he was the one in charge. Side eyeing Sans, Frisk decided he was more personable than Gaster. He certainly had a gruffer way of speaking and acting but at least she could read his face. 

"My turn, are you the youngest?" she asked pleasantly. Frisk's conscience pricked her but she wanted to try out her magic. If she could make herself more likeable, more trusted, it could only make her escape all the easier. She didn't know how long they were going to watch her for and didn't want to give them a reason to keep it up.

Sans groaned at her question. "Why, because I'm shorter? No. Papyrus is the youngest. I'm the middle and Gaster is the oldest." Staring at the little human next to him, Sans narrowed his eyes. "Why you so curious?"

"Just curious." she replied, side eyeing him back, not quite sure how to tell if it was working.

"Save it for the jobs. Speaking of which, we'll be having a team meeting of sorts later on today. I don't know much of the details but Wings was excited."

"Wings?" asked Frisk.

"Laugh and you're dead. W.D. stands for Wings Dings. _You'll_ just call him boss or Mister Gaster."

"I'll keep that in mind." she said politely. "Although something that has been on my mind, are all your," She tapped her chin trying to think of the proper word, " ' _associates_ ' given new places to live?" 

Sans wasn't sure how honest to be with her. He wanted to tell Frisk that right now she was viewed as a special novelty by Gaster, that all this kindness being shown was an investment in future profits. Humans with magic didn't last long if they weren't protected and the pretty new apartment was nothing more than a carefully guarded gilded cage. He didn't want to scare Frisk because he knew if she tried to run, Gaster wouldn't be merciful. Her soul's power didn't necessarily require a body to be used, it was just more convenient if she remained alive. Clearing his throat, Sans replied, "Think of this as a side perk of your magic." 

She didn't like the way he said it. Frisk could tell Sans was uncomfortable and this wasn't the whole truth. ' _Just stay the course and leave when you can.'_ she thought, reaffirming the need to escape. As the car made its way from Frisk's old life, the neighborhoods and streets became brighter and happier. The shabby buildings were replaced with intricate stonework and glass, the flora was thriving and manicured. Frisk stared in wonder as they passed by, barely believing she would be living among such opulence. A pleasant surprise was how blended the crowd was, full of both monsters and humans walking the streets. She tried her best to remember to keep her mouth as they entered the building, greeted by bright lights and polished floors. Sans had clearly been there before, easily maneuvering past the door guard with a quick wave and heading straight towards the elevator. She rushed to keep up with him feeling out of place in such a fine building. 

"This place is so fancy!" Frisk whispered over to Sans as the elevator operator clacked the door shut. "Third floor. Yea, it's pretty nice here." He replied.

Frisk had only been in an elevator once before and the poor machine had barely worked. Some cheap and dumb speakeasy owner thought it made his place looks fancy but it broke within a week. She had used it once and hated the way it screeched. This one was smooth, easily gliding up past the floors. She could get used to it if this is how it worked all the time. Glancing down at her long cream dress and plain brown shoes, she felt like an unfashionable weed in a field of beautiful roses. Her family back in the Old Country had been wealthy and the home she and Aleit lived in was full of old grandeur. Thoughts of her childhood danced in the back of her mind as they walked through the hallway. Intricate molding trim lining the floor of plush carpet of the hallway. Sunlight from a large window overlooking the busy sidewalk, beamed in. For a moment Frisk thought she could see the forest of her childhood through the window and the cobbled path surrounded by flowers leading up to it.

"This is your place." said Sans, setting down the box to fish the keys out of his pocket. Glancing back at Frisk, she was clearly off in her own world staring at the window. "Dollface, we're here." He grabbed her arm, snapping her back to reality.

"Oh! This is really mine? Truly?" she asked. While she knew it to be a gilded cage, it was nevertheless, lovely. Her new - ' _Temporary._ ' she reminded herself- home was a relatively large open, lightly furnished room with its crowning piece being a large floor to ceiling mirror in the living room. Frisk stood in front of it, thinking back to her ballet classes. 'Maybe I can find a teacher.' she thought idly. 

"Where do you want the books?" grumbled Sans.

"Anywhere will work." 

Checking his watch, Sans let out a sigh. "C'mon. You'll have all the time in the world to admire it later. It's almost meeting time." Frisk hated to leave without getting a proper tour but didn't argue. There were strings attached and she had to be mindful. 

She wasn't sure what to expect, having never been privy to a mob boss meeting with his men, but a fine French restaurant was not it. The maitre d' greeted them with a "Good afternoon, Monsieur Sans, mademoiselle. I understand you are here to meet Monsieur Gaster?" 

"That is correct." 

"This way, please." 

The couple was brought to a private room, where Gaster and Papyrus were already seated. "Ah, good! You've arrived!" was the pleasant greeting from Gaster. _'Sans was right_.' observed Frisk. Gaster appeared to be genuinely excited. Whilst the elder brother always wore a smile, the youngest kept a scowl, eyeing Frisk suspiciously. She wanted to avoid Papyrus’ gaze, given how the last time she saw him she had magically knocked him to the floor, but determined to put her magic to good use, matched Gaster's enthusiasm. "Hallo, good sirs!" she said with a dazzling smile, taking a seat. 

Eager to begin, Gaster wasted no time as they sat down. “Allow me to bring you up to speed, Miss Frisk. A short while ago we received a letter from Asriel Dreemurr, stating he would like to enter into a temporary ceasefire. It’s not a disagreeable treaty, given current events with a certain woman, but quite curious that it was the son who sent it, not the father.” he explained. “Within a week, there is going to be a _charity_ ball,” the brothers snickered but Frisk didn’t quite understand why. “Which is going to be attended by Undyne. If she’s attending, there is a good chance Asriel will be there.” Turning to Frisk, “This is where you come in, I’m curious to see how much Asriel is going behind his father’s back. There is no overarching goal for the event, just gather up as much information as possible.”

Frisk thought for a moment, considering what all this meant. She knew the names of the aforementioned people but only through their gang affiliation. One thing concerned her most, “Will I be alone?” 

“Not at all, both my brothers will be with you.”

“Wait, both of us?” asked Sans, looking none too pleased at the prospect of attending the event. 

“Of course. Undyne won’t be alone and it’s unknown if Chara is sending any representatives. One of you will escort Frisk as she quite literally works her magic, and the other shall at the real party.” 

‘ _Real party?’_ thought Frisk, confused. The spying she understood but couldn’t understand what was meant by ‘ _real party_ ’ when they were already attending a party. Not wanting to further embed herself in the brother’s operation, she did not ask for clarification. Frisk surmised it was most likely not something she wanted to know about anyways, especially when Papyrus said, “ _I’ll_ do it. The last time you tried negotiating for anything the whole house nearly blew up!” declared Papyrus. 

“Oh c’mon, it wasn’t that bad. Just one room.” mumbled Sans.

“What happened?” Frisk asked, letting curiosity get the better of her.

“Sans nearly blew up a safehouse! Twice! If not for my magnificent skills of persuasion and quick thinking, we would’ve lost one of our bigger suppliers for Grillby and been blown up!” hissed Papyrus, trying to keep his voice low. Sans rolled his eyes. “Anyways, it was just one room on fire-”

“With all the alcohol!” interrupted Papyrus.

“Like. I. Said. It was just one room. Blame it on all the candles they had set up instead of actual lights.” Sans replied with a shrug. 

Frisk was thoroughly amused by the bickering brothers, and giggled as Sans slung his arm around a thoroughly unamused Papyrus. “Paps,” he drawled, “It was all part of the plan. Ya see? They were tryin’ to chisel us and just needed to...” he paused for dramatic effect. “See the light.” Papyrus let out a loud groan as Sans burst into laughter, smacking the table with his hand. Frisk giggled along, thoughts of the previous conversation leaving her mind.


	7. Go to the Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find our heroine growing courage and wit, as she navigates through her new life. There are dark whisperings of things yet to come and strange encounters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations dear readers! So whilst I am no longer furloughed, I'm on like 10 hour work weeks, so basically only two shifts per week. *insert strangled laugh cry here* Dear lord, at least school is coming along swimmingly. Terribly sorry this took so long to come out, I was faced with a bit of writer's block.  
> \+ Married Before Breakfast(1937) is hilarious. It's a light hearted fast paced comedy. 10/10 totally recommend.  
> \+ I felt physical pain watching the Singing Marine(1937) and Always in My Heart(1942). Please send aid. 0/10 for both.  
> \+ Avoid the 1940 film adaptation of Pride and Prejudice(1940). I really wanted to like the movie but remembering it is akin to remembering a hazy opium induced fever dream that was dreadfully boring and narrated by an equally drugged out sloth. 0/10 do not recommend the 1940 film adaptation.  
> \+ Last of the Pagans (1935) is an amazing movie, starring Ray Mala and Lotus Long. The only downside is a lot of dialogue is not in English and only some is accompanied by subtitles. There is one scene where you can literally say "Taro smash!" It's great. 8/10.  
> \+ A Slight Case of Murder(1938) is hilarious 10/10.  
> \+ The idiom 'cool as a cucumber' was first recorded in 1732. Who knew?

~------~

He shuffled quickly through the papers, barely believing what was said. So many things- the letter, the missing people, the secrecy- all of it clicked into place. What was being done was such a twisted type of cannibalism and for what? More power? Revenge? Revenge for what, when the aggressor was the one who left? There was still so much to uncover, so much more to learn but something had to be done before the situation spiraled out of control. He could only hope tonight yielded the correct puzzle pieces.

~------~

Frisk was pleasantly surprised when she was allowed to leave the restaurant without an escort. She wanted to explore the downtown area and more immediately, buy a dress. Whilst her purple costume was lovely she did not think it appropriate for the ' _charity'_ ball. Frisk still didn't understand what was meant by that and chalked it up to some sort of backroom dealings she did not want to understand. What she did know was that to keep afloat she had to play whatever role Gaster gave her. If he wanted her to spy, then she was going to look pretty doing it.

Her magic involved a degree of manipulation in her behavior, and as she wandered the streets, she wondered if mayhaps appearance could also play a role. Both Sans and Papyrus would be with her so not only could charm people, she could charm the brothers and gain their trust. Frisk pushed down the feelings of guilt and disgust at her own thoughts. She needed to escape and to do that successfully, needed to not be watched. She observed humans and monsters alike, taking note of their clothes and style. Most wore neutral or dark colors in trendy styles. Soft bright colors for Spring and something more fitted, Frisk resolved. She didn't have to look far as she found herself in a little boutique. Nestled onto a back rack was a delicate silk dress of pale yellow with a gathered waist and layered skirt . _'Simply perfect_ .' Frisk thought with a smile. ' _Now for some shoes.'_ She was very pleased with her purchase as she walked home, stopping by a confectionary store for some wine gum. 

The week had passed by far too quickly for Frisk. She had successfully picked up Aleit's ashes and kept them on a sacred shelf, overlooking the window. It was a bittersweet moment finally concluding that part of her life. In a reverent tone she promised, "I'll take you somewhere nice and let you rest there, Grandmama. I'm sorry this urn is so plain." 

To her delighted surprise, Gaster did indeed find books for her on magic and she read them voraciously in her desire to learn more. Whilst the primary focus was on the magic of monsters, it gave her a better idea of what she could do. The emotional charm was only one facet and she was determined to learn how to shield herself from attacks. It was slow progress learning alone but by the end of the week, she was able to summon a small bubble shield big enough to fit her little finger. “This is the bees knees, I am now invincible.” she said with a helpless laugh. Frisk knew she could ask Gaster for help, and he no doubt would seeing as her usefulness would increase, but it was unnerving being viewed as nothing more than a special toy. More importantly, she did not want to invite the brothers even further into her life. 

The day of the charity ball- _'Why is it called that if it’s just gangsters socialising_?' Frisk thought- was upon her. She readied herself, carefully pinning her hair up, so as to appear bobbed. The dress was loose enough to appear fashionable but different enough to stand apart from others. As she spun in a circle, Frisk thought she looked very nice with her pale yellow dress and green shoes. By her own measurement, she appeared innocent and delicate, slightly naive in a charming manner. She almost didn't recognize herself. The dark circles that once lined her eyes were gone and she no longer looked quite so tired. After so many years of struggle and stress, Frisk was surprised how much good sleeping in a soft bed and resting had done her in such a short period. 

Despite the dangers of the new situation, Frisk walked an air of lightness and relief. She only had one task: save money and escape. 

A sharp knock and grumbling of Sans, drew Frisk to her door and she opened it with a smile. "Good afternoon, Sans." 

She looked like a Golden Flower all dolled up in her yellow dress. All that was missing was a corsage, he should've brought her flo- Sans shut down that thought quickly. "How'd you do that with your hair?" he asked, wanting to distract himself from certain thoughts. They had a job to do tonight. 

"I braided it up." she replied, more than a little disappointed he said nothing about her dress. 

"Well you look ready to go." Sans said, looking everywhere but at Frisk. Shrugging off the little sting of hurt, though not quite sure why she felt that way over a dress, she simply smiled as they left. 

Frisk felt a little awkward sitting between the brothers in the car. Neither of them were saying anything and wanting to fill the silence, she asked, "So, do we know if Asriel is really going to be attending?" She wasn't quite sure what to expect out of whatever the party was supposed to be, much less who was going to be attending and why. Sans shrugged. "Undyne at least will be there. Wings hasn't heard anything more on Asriel but it's likely." 

"To be more specific, we know Undyne will not be alone. She's too valuable to sent unprotected-"

"It would be pretty _fishy_ if she was sent alone." interrupted Sans, responding to Papyrus' glare with a cheesy grin. 

"As I was saying, she will have a retinue, so we have to be on guard ourselves. More than likely she'll be at the other party, which works out best since I doubt either one of you have the capacity to deal with her as I do." explained Papyrus, pointedly ignoring Sans' eye roll. The silence returned with brothers deep in their own thoughts. A small nervousness had seeped into Frisk and grew with each passing second. She wanted to know more. Who else was being expected? Who should she talk to? What should she look for? Sans would be with her so that was a small comfort but without direction, she was afraid of giving the game away. Frisk was a dancer, not a spy. 

The ' _charity'_ ball was held on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by thick trees and bordered by a lake. As they approached Frisk wished she wasn't squished between the brothers so she could peer out the window. She hadn't seen trees so big since her childhood and missed the sight of a forest. "Who lives here?" She asked in bewilderment as they drove up to the mansion. Already people were mingling on the steps outside, greeting incoming friends waves and smiles. 

"This place is owned by some local politician. He's been aiming to get on Wing's good side for awhile now." explained Papyrus, who sounded rather annoyed at the whole situation.

"He's also been talking with the Dreemurrs too so it's a bit of a free for all here." Sans added. 

_'So this really is just a front for dealings. It's so elaborate!'_ thought Frisk. Outloud she asked, "How is this a charity ball, exactly?" 

"An auction towards the end of the night. There isn't anything being sold that's of use so we'll be gone by then." replied Papyrus.

As they walked into the large foyer, Frisk felt her nervousness blossom into feelings of inadequacy and panic. Monsters and humans alike looked so glamorous and confident. Suddenly her little yellow dress didn't look so pretty and maybe she really should cut her hair the bobby pins are probably visible and she couldn't remember all of Aleit's etique-

"Frisk? You're uh, lookin' a pale, sweetheart." remarked Sans. 

"I can't do this!" she whispered frantically. "I don't know what to say! I should've bought a different dress! What if I trip?"

Sans stifled back a chuckle. "You look fine. Most of these people are assholes. You won't trip because I'll catch you, and we'll just say we were doin' the tango or something." 

"What are you two whispering about? Nevermind, I don't have time. I'll be downstairs, we'll meet back here say," Papyrus glanced at his pocket watch, "at about 9." Grabbing Frisk's arm, Papyrus bent low to her and whispered, "I trust you to not drink yourself into a mess tonight, be sure he does not. Human alcohol is more potent than monster alcohol and I really don't need to deal with that sort of mess tonight." 

Frisk nodded. "I'll keep an eye on Sans, don't worry." With a sharp look at Sans, who gave him a wink and a grin in return. "Don't let him near the mustard either." Papyrus said with a sigh as he departed. ' _Mustard? What in the world?'_ Frisk did not want to know. 

"So Miss Frisk, who do you think we should bother first?" asked Sans, eyeing the crowd. There were a few people he recognized, mostly little redhots too scared to properly dip their toes into the city's underbelly. Taking out his own pocket watch, ' _Three fucking hours of this.'_ It was going to be a long night. 

"Hm, I don't see anyone important or skeezy looking. No offense." She said look up at him. Sans just grunted. "Maybe over by the food table? Or is there a garden?"

"We aren't here to stare at flowers." he grumbled. ' _I just want to stare at you. Dammit, stay focused!'_ At least tonight would be tolerable with Frisk around.

"Well I was thinking, if someone is trying to be sneaky, they would go to the garden because it's private." explained Frisk. She really wanted an excuse to see the garden. Or at least stowaway to a balcony to see the lake in the moonlight. "Let's get some drinks and see what happens." said Sans with a shrug. 

Whilst no one overtly appeared to watch them, Frisk noticed how the crowd seemed to rotate away from them as they walked to the drink table. ‘ _The brothers really do have a reputation. This is going to make it hard.’_ she thought. If people were already wary of Sans, then how were they supposed to talk to anyone? Frisk had a sinking feeling she would end doing most of the talking tonight. Remembering Papyrus' words, Frisk pressed a glass into Sans' hand. "It's an apple cider, it's yummy." 

"There is no alcohol in this." He grumbled, reluctantly taking the glass from her.

"Did you forget the Prohibition? Of course there's no alcohol." Frisk whispered back. This was going to be a long night if he was going to complain about the drinks. 

"Frisk. Please. There is literally wine right over there." 

"That's just grape juice." Frisk replied in exasperation, trying hard to ignore it so blatantly being served in the open. 

"Well, yea. What do you think wine is made out of?" was Sans' snarky response. 

' _Rules for thee but not for me. Crooked politicians.'_ she thought a little bitterly staring at the table. "Don't even think about it. We have to keep a clear head. Besides you shouldn't be drinking human alcohol anyways."

"You're killing me, girly." grumbled Sans.

Trying to keep the mission in mind, Frisk analyzed the crowd once more as she sipped the cider. Standing near her and Sans were a bunch of guests, gossipping about the weather and the food. ' _Boring.'_ she thought. Over by the piano a group of people stood together chatting excitedly. Frisk drew in her courage and casually strode over to the crowd, carefully not to stand too close. 

"... And he was wearing nothing but his knickers!"

"Oh I can't imagine!"

“The nuns could imagine a whole lot, though.”

‘ _Oh geez people.’_ thought Frisk, mildly embarrassed for listening in on such a story. Leaving Sans behind to fend for himself if he wasn’t going to follow, Frisk decided to do little laps around each room. The staircase along with several doors were closed off to the public with deep blue ribbon tied across them to bar guests, but there was still the foyer, main hall(her current location), garden, and several open rooms. Wanting to see the garden before the sun fully set, Frisk decided to make her next stop there. A few couples giggled into the bushes, hiding away as the electric lights slowly flickered to life. Frisk walked slowly along the little gravel path, admiring the flowers. 

Being early Spring, only a few flowers were in bloom but that mattered little as the Redbuds were in full glory. Frisk stared at the delicate pink blossoms wanting so badly to pluck some for her hair. She enjoyed the perfumed scent standing under them, for a moment forgetting her worries. 

As the final golden rays disappeared behind the horizon, Frisk decided to head back inside. She did have a job to do. Entering back into the main hall, Sans was nowhere to be seen. ‘I _hope he’s not drinking.’_ Frisk made her away to one of the side rooms, hoping to spot him. It was more of a lounge area, with people sitting at chairs and reclining against a large sofa. Pretending to be interested in a book shelf, Frisk inched her way into the room. 

"I heard the shipment was coming Wednesday." mumbled one man to another next to him. Both glanced around the room, keeping their voices low. Frisk held her breath, picking out a book and flipping through the pages.

“Really?” the other whispered back.

“Yes, it's being expedited here!” She tried to subtly lean back to hear the conversation better, her heart thumping in her chest. 

"But why did they order so much flour? It's only three cakes!" 

Frisk wanted to kick both of them. With a huff she put the book back and decided to try the next room, where music was coming from. The room was full of people meandering about as some woman pitter-pattered away on the piano. 

“Lovely music, no?” Frisk asked no one in particular, leaning against the wall. 

“Oh yes! Isn’t it? I heard she worked with Paul Whiteman last year!” exclaimed a woman next to Frisk.

“Pfft really?” came the sarcastic from the woman’s partner. 

"Yes really! I heard it from Angela."

"You hear everything _wrong_ from Angela." 

Not wanting to get involved in the lover’s spat, Frisk decided to quickly move on. People in the next room appeared more relaxed, nursing their drinks and chatting. A couple sat on the couch regaling any listening persons with stories of their honeymoon and travels. Frisk could see almost the lie form in the air as they talked of trapiezing through jungles and stumbling across hidden gardens. ‘ _And I’m sure it was all very lovely exploring without a map.’_ she thought sarcastically. 

Much to Frisk’s disappointment there was no good gossip. Or at least none she could hear. Her cider was empty, feet sore, and with no good information or even hints of a secret plot, Frisk felt like a terrible spy. ‘ _Maybe there really is no information. What should I tell Gaster? Everyone was a good person tonight?’_ she mused, grabbing another glass. With a short sigh Frisk looked around the room, trying to figure out where Sans disappeared too. In her little lap around the building, she hadn’t spotted him. ' _What happened to catching me if I trip?'_ She felt at little hurt at his disappearance, ignoring the fact she was the one who decided to go walking off. ' _We're here to spy on people, not stand around.'_ Frisk still felt a little guilty. 

“Howdy! Looking for someone?” 

So wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn't notice the stranger approaching and nearly jumped out of her skin at the stranger's words. "Mein Gott! Ah! I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting words!"

He was a monster rather similar in appearance to a goat with crisp white fur and long hanging ears, tall, and wearing a sharp deep emerald suit; he reminded Frisk of a modern Pan as she stared up at him. A laugh bubbled forth from him at her surprise. 

"Not expecting words! Shall I communicate through clicks and chirps?" he joked. Frisk giggled and shook her head. 

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention." replied the frazzled Frisk. 

"Don't worry about it. I've a habit of sneaking around. You looked like you needed some company."

"Well my friend disappeared and I can't seem to find him. He's my ride home, you see." Frisk explained. It certainly hadn't been three hours but the gap between the last time she saw Sans was widening and it worried her. 

"Some mug left a pretty flower like you all alone at a party? Well bless his heart, if you don't mind, I'll be your escort for the evening. Although our situations are a bit opposite. I abandoned my friend and don’t really want to find them right now." 

Feeling a bit dazzled by the charming stranger, Frisk replied rather demurely, "I don’t mind at all. May I know the name of my gentleman escort?" 

"Ah, yes I'm forgetting my manners. My name is Asriel Dreemurr." he said with a smirk.

Frisk felt part of herself die under the weight of his words. It occurred to her, she didn't actually know what the upper echelons of the mob world looked like beyond the Skeleton Brothers, a distinct disadvantage she felt keenly. "Nice to meet you, I'm Frisk Engel." she said, trying to maintain the smile on her face. If she somehow made it through the night, at least she could report this back to Gaster. Asriel lifted her hand to kiss it. "The pleasure is all mine, dear Frisk. Are you here for the auctions?" he asked.

Trying to fight the rising blush in her cheeks, Frisk replied. "Not quite. We’re here for socializing.”

“Not much socializing standing all by yourself.” he laughed.

“That’s for sure. It was getting a bit lonely with just a cup of cider to talk too.” Frisk replied. ‘ _Oh geez, now I’m sounding like an idiot. Sans where are you?’_ Trying to think of something better to say, she blurted out, “I know it’s a bit dark now but have you seen the gardens here? I didn’t know Redbuds grew so big!”

"They are quite lovely, especially with all the flowers in bloom. Speaking of gardens, you look like a right Golden flower in your dress, Miss Frisk. I saw you over yonder and thought you were someone else so I had to say hello." Either Asriel was working some sort of magic on her or he was just too charming for his own good but the way he said the last part made Frisk think that wasn't such a good thing. "I believe the word you used was howdy. Another abandoned friend?" she asked tentatively. Asriel gave a half hearted shrug. "Something like that, I'm glad you are you though. Makes the evening much more pleasant." 

Frisk had no desire to explore that line conversation any further, being warned away by the slight drop in tone. "So what brings you to the party?" she asked in what she hoped was a nice sing-songy voice. 

"Oh a little bit of this, little bit that. Mostly just socializing like yourself.” he said with a smirk.

 _‘You mean you are here for the secret dealings tonight.’_ she thought but aloud said, “Shall we go socialize together? I’ve been trying to find some place to sit for awhile now but every chair appears occupied.” At least that much wasn’t a lie, her feet were starting to scream at her for rest. “I think I can assist with that. Follow me.” he said, offering his arm. 

He led them to one of the rooms, nestled in the back. Only a few people were milling about and Frisk gratefully snagged a spot on a bench next to the window. “Thank goodness for sitting!” she said with a smile. 

“Why in the world do women wear shoes that hurt their feet?” asked Asriel, taking the spot next to her.

“I haven’t the faintest idea. Ask me when I like my shoes again.” she sighed, leaning back against the small sofa. Frisk caught a few quick glances at her and Asriel. The people quickly averted their eyes but unlike with her and Sans, they didn’t shuffle away. ‘ _That’s interesting.’_ she thought. Frisk found herself in an unusual situation as she stared out at the lake. It felt like ages since she had actually been able to talk to anyone. Whilst there had been acquaintances at the speakeasies, Frisk hadn’t known anyone enough to truly call them a friend or really talk with anyone. She held no illusions about the brothers and as charming as Asriel was, she was certain he was quite the opposite of a friend. 

Aleit had been her main source of conversation for so long and they knew each other so well, Frisk realized she had no idea what to say to a stranger. Hoping she didn’t come across as trying to pry, Frisk asked, “So the auctions. What does one see at a charity auction? I’ve never been to one before.” She hoped her question came across as casual and easygoing, especially since her curiosity was true. Around such a high class world, she felt distinctly out of place and woefully uneducated on how they operated.

“Depends on who’s hosting it, I think. There’s a lot of artwork at this one. My mother wanted me to get something nice for her but I’m a bit clueless." Frisk could sense the question before he asked it, as he casually rested against the window ledge, watching her from the corner of his eyes. "Would you mind terribly attending it with me?” he asked. 

Trying to think of some diplomatic way to say ‘no’, Frisk replied, “I’ll need to let my friend know, since he’s my ride home. He wasn’t planning on staying that long.” Internally, Frisk begged for him to take the hint. 

“I’m sure I could persuade him of my honorable intentions.” 

‘ _You are doing this on purpose, aren’t you?’_ Giving a small laugh, and hoping she didn’t look as nervous as she felt, Frisk ducked her head, smiling shyly. Wherever Sans was, she hoped he was having better luck than her. 

He watched Frisk slowly prance her way around the room, trying to look casual. She reminded him of a lost little fairy prancing around trying to find her way out. ‘ _Well more power to her.’_ he thought, swirling the cider cup. The thought of leaving her somewhere made him a little anxious but if she was going to adventure out on her own, then he was free to complete his assigned task. Frisk's presence was mostly to test her magic and Gaster didn't really expect her to come up with anything. The real information was locked up in the office which, mentally going over the blueprints in his head, should be overlooking the lake. Not wanting to have a whole crowd of people watch him teleport away, Frisk’s little idea of the garden didn’t sound so bad.

The cool summer breeze greeted him, blowing in pleasant scents from the trees and early Spring flowers. He watched the upper story windows carefully for any sign of life. Either they were sitting in the dark or everyone was down in the meeting. Given the stakes, it was likely the latter. One more quick glance around the garden to make sure no one was looking and there she was.

_'It's not fair.'_ he thought watching her stare at the trees. She hadn't appeared to notice him. He really should've brought her flowers. 

Teleporting to the upper level, Sans held his breath, listening carefully. 

No rushed footsteps. 

No angry voices. 

No sudden flickering of the lights. 

The room was near pitch black despite the open curtains, and he felt his way around carefully. Reaching the door, Sans cracked it open to the hallway and waited. He must’ve sat there for nearly ten minutes waiting for someone to pass by. 

' _This is almost too easy.'_ he thought, carefully making his way to the office. With no patrols or guards, either this was a set up for thieves or the homeowner really wasn't concerned about security with the party downstairs.

The office was completely empty and as dark as the other room. Risking detection, Sans pulled out his lighter and looked for a lamp. A small one sat on the desk. After one last look in the hallway just to be sure, Sans flicked it on. It didn't do much to illuminate the room but what he needed was the papers on the desk as he gave them a cursory glance. Judging by the first couple of pages, this is the information Gaster was looking for. Looking for a spare envelope to stash them in, Sans quickly folded them up and shoved them in. Gaster could go through these later. Making sure he wasn't leaving anything behind, Sans quickly scanned through the room. He pulled some papers out of the desk and stacked them up to mimic the ones stolen. Footsteps caused him to freeze. Looking for a place to hide, Sans quickly flicked off the lamp, and climbed out the window, clutching tightly to the building. The window remained open just enough he could hear the conversation inside. 

"....well enough. With any luck the goods will arrive shortly."

"I'll see they're secured. The last thing we need is for anything to go missing. How much time is left?" Sans narrowed his eyes. He knew that voice. 

"Let's see… about three and a half hours or so. Plenty time to get all the details stamped out.” 

“Perfect. Do you have your payment ready?”

The sound of a safe opening and closing could be heard. “Right here. Will you be rejoining us?"

"No, no Undyne knows what she's doing. Make sure to give her money when you get back."

“So you think it's true…”

As the voices disappeared out of the room, Sans teleported back to the garden. Asriel was here. The thought of dealing with the silver tongued Dreemurr raised Sans' heckles. The kid was too smart and too smooth for Sans' liking. The ' _goods'_ had to be the alcohol from Grillby so things were going in their favor at least. 

_'Time to find Frisky.'_ he thought _._ With his mission completed, he could finally enjoy the night. Despite the electric lamp posts the garden was dark enough he knew she wasn't there. _'If I was a nervous little lady, where would I go?'_

He'd go home if given the option. Go home and go to bed. She couldn't leave without them and was too straight to sneak around other parts of the mansion, so she must be mingling. He didn't see her in the main hall and decided to rotate through the rooms. 

A hard knot was forming in his stomach after he didn't see her in the first two rooms. _'Come on Frisk, where are you_?' 

What if someone grabbed her?

What if she got hurt?

She had no control over her magic. She couldn't defend herself. 

_' She would've screamed if someone grabbed her. There are so many people here. She's fine. She's fine.'_

Sans wasn't sure if he was going to be fine. By the time he reached the last three rooms, he was ready to raise Hell if she wasn't there.

And there she was on a bench with that damn Dreemurr kid sitting way too close.

He wanted to punch that smug grin straight off Asriel's face. 

Following Asriel's gaze, Frisk looked back to see Sans glaring at them. _' Oh thank God, I'm saved!'_ she thought happily. As charming as Asriel's behavior was, he had an unsettling way of reminding her too much of Gaster and she was running out of things to talk about. Asriel's questions were progressively becoming personal and she was afraid of lying to him.

"Sans! I'm so happy to see you! I'd like you to meet Asriel Dreemurr." Frisk said excitedly, hopping up from the sofa.

"We've met." came the dark response from Sans.

"Evening Sans. Ornery as ever, I see. Dear Frisk," he remarked, eyeing Sans, "I didn't realize you were associated with likes of _him_." 

Frisk had the sinking feeling things were rapidly souring. "Asriel, it has been a great amount of fun meeting you this evening. Thank you ever so much for the conversation. Sans, shall we go?" 

"You can't leave." said Asriel. 

"What?" Frisk grabbed Sans arm, hoping to feel a measure of comfort. He radiated with anger and Frisk was afraid he was about to attack as she watched his hands clench up into fists.

"Papyrus is still at the meeting and you can't leave here without him, can you?" asked Asriel quietly.

"Are you trying to fuckin' imply something?" growled Sans. 

Asriel simply clicked his tongue at Sans. "Language, please. You know what I mean."

"No I don't fuckin' tink I do. Mind spellin' it out for me?"

"Sans, please. It's fine." Frisk begged, clinging to him. He looked down at her. Giving a short sigh, he glared over at Asriel. "Don't get smart with me, you little palooka. And stay away from Frisk." Frisk kept her grip tight on Sans as they turned to leave.

"You really have to get the last word in?" mocked Asriel.

Sans whipped around so fast she nearly lost her grip and fell over. "The fuck did you just say?" He was on the verge of shouting and Frisk knew it was going to come to blow if they remained there a second longer.

"Sans, it's fine. Come with me." she pleaded, tugging on his shirt, trying to turn him around. 

"Only because you asked." he gritted out.

Frisk knew Asriel was right- they couldn't leave without Papyrus but Sans could not be around Asriel. She pulled him out to the garden, hoping the nighttime breeze would calm him down. 

"That mangy little rat bastard! He didn't do anything to you did he?" demanded Sans.

"N-no. I'm alright. What happened back there?" 

Sans plopped down a bench, rubbing his face. "He just drives me nuts."

"Really? I had no idea." Sans rolled his eyes at her remark. 

Patting the spot next to him for Frisk to sit, Sans sighed. "Look, just be careful around him. He's a bit of a flaming youth kinda guy, among other things, and just...just try not to be alone with him.” 

“Your concern is touching,” she said with a laugh sitting next to him, “but we were in a room full of people. Besides, I think I handled the situation well enough. He didn't know I worked for you guys until you came in. Hey, where did you go? I was looking for you.” 

Unable to come up with a decent lie but not wanting to risk themselves being spied upon, Sans stated, “I was around. Something more is happening.” Frisk leaned in. Sans hoped she would scoot just another inch closer to him. He couldn't tell if she was wearing perfume or if it was trees. 

“Oh do tell because if I have to hear one more story about someone’s wedding or the weather, I’m going to go crazy.” she said annoyed.

“Been that kinda night?” he asked, amused at her attitude. He’d only seen Frisk swing between a crying nervousness and acting cool as a cucumber.

“Well you were there for part of it so you should know. Yes, it’s been that _kinda_ night.” she said sitting up straight, looking indignant. 

“How about a little date tomorra’? I’m thinking if the trees have ears, it’d be best not to talk about certain matters, capiche?” 

“It’s pronounced ‘ _ca pee shay’_.” 

“Don’t be gettin’ smart with me, dollface.” Sans grumbled, resting his head on his hand. 

She stuck her tongue out at him. He took that as a 'yes'. 

Papyrus was tapping his foot in the foyer, scowling as they sheepishly walked over to him. “Don’t think your little spat with Asriel is going to go unnoticed.” he hissed before turning on his heels to leave. Sans shrugged when Frisk looked up at him, concerned. “What can I say, news travels fast.” 

‘ _We’re in trouble.’_ thought a dejected Frisk.

Instead of the expected lecture, Papyrus instead regaled them with tales of the negotiations. "They're willing to take the goods and best of all, the price barely dropped." Papyrus said, giving himself a mental pat on the back. "There were a few suppliers willing to work with us as well and one had connections a few cities over. With the possibility of expanding, I'd call _my_ part a success." 

Frisk stared hard at her shoes. If Gaster wanted the latest news on who was married, getting married, and when it was predicted to rain, she had that part covered. Asriel hadn't offered up much information beyond talking about getting a new apartment and she felt a keen happiness knowing it was nowhere near where she lived. "That's great news Paps. How you managed to strongarm Undyne into that is amazing." Papyrus puffed his chest up a little at his brother's praise. "Speaking of success," Sans pulled out the envelope, "from the looks of it, Wings was right." Papyrus flicked his eyes over to Frisk and shook his head. "Show and tell will be later." Sans gave a huff and muttered, "Fine." 

"Would you gentlemen like to hear the worst story about a honeymoon?" offered Frisk, thinking back to the couple stomping through some exotic jungle. 

"Go ahead, toots." replied Sans.

"Yes, do tell _Miss_ Frisk." said Papyrus, side eyeing his brother.

"There is no possible way for them to see jaguars and kangaroos in the same jungle." huffed Papyrus, crossing his arms. "They had to be lying." Through his laughter, Sans managed to wheeze out, "You're just now figuring it out?"

"I know right!" exclaimed Frisk in exasperation. She may have embellished a few parts of the story here and there but at least both brothers were laughing at the story. For one of the few times since this had all began, Frisk found herself happy. Being able to laugh and joke with people was a rare luxury to her and she felt a small sting of sadness when the car stopped. 

"I'll walk you up." said Sans quickly, getting out of the car with her. 

"Okay, thank you." she replied, a little confused. 

He didn't say anything until they were on her floor. "So ah, about that date, darlin'." Sans couldn't remember the last time he felt so nervous. 

"Yes?" Frisk ducked her head, trying to hide her blush. _'It's not like that, silly! Remember it's about whatever he was doing!'_

"I was, uh, was thinkin', that is if you aren't opposed or nuthin', maybe tomorra' night? Pick you up at six? Gaster knows all the best restaurants, I just eat at them, but I can think of a few places." Sans cringed internally as he spoke. _'Really? You've lived here how long and have no idea where to take her?'_

"Maybe for a top secret mission debriefing, we could stay here. I'm a pretty good cook." Frisk said proudly and then promptly mentally kicked herself for even suggesting that. "Ah, you know just in case.. in case someone tries to listen in." she hurriedly explained, not wanting to give him the wrong impression.

"Uh, yeah. Yep. Cause of the ears. Listening." Sans felt like an idiot. _'That's what you come up with? Stupid mug, seriously?'_

"Fantastic." said Frisk holding out her hand. _'What am I doing?'_

"Yep." replied Sans, giving her hand a quick shake. " _S-sounds_ like a plan." 

"Okay. Well, um, good night!" she rushed into the apartment, closing the door and sinking against it. "What in the world am I doing?" 

~------~------~------~ **Extras** ~------~------~------~

In an effort to be historically accurate and because I love fashion history(honestly history in general), I wanted to share some of the resources I've used. In a previous chapter, I mentioned a book, _Flapper_ by Joshua Zeitz as a good resource. It delves into the history of Flappers and women's independence, philosophy of feminism, socialism, and attitudes of the time. It also serves as a mini biography for F. Scott Fitzgerald and his relationship with Zelda. They were incredibly influential with the creation of the New Woman. For Frisk's dress, scroll down to[ figure 5](https://fashionhistory.fitnyc.edu/1920-1929/) to see what I based the dress off of. The [Vintage Dancer](https://vintagedancer.com/1920s/1920s-evening-dresses-history/) also has amazing examples of 1920s fashion. I've been mulling around what I want Frisk to look exactly and have it narrowed down to a mix of Natalie Wood and Evelyn Nesbit. She's more a Gibson Girl than a New Woman in terms of appearance. Someday I'll have art done up but that probably won't be until after finals. I hope everyone is enjoying the story thus for. The next chapter shall hopefully be posted anon! 


	8. Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find our heroine finding herself in a bit of an emotional quandary along with a certain individual whose own feelings are mutual. As her goals are becoming foggy, another's are becoming clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Google docs the whole story up to chapter 7 is 69 pages long. There's a lot of jokes to said, given the story is at its core is a romance, but I shan't say any of them. I find this very amusing.  
> \+ Humphrey Bogart is amazing. I've said that before and I'll say it again.  
> \+ Trying to find pre-1930s belly dance videos is incredibly hard and it makes me sad. Bellydance was in the States by the 1920s and dancers were established performers in clubs. All that history and no way to look back at it. At least the 1930s belly dance scene appears to be well documented so that's something.  
> \+ Complimenting a paper wasp in Spanish will not calm them down. I did not get stung and she was released with no injury to herself but compliments are not the secret key to wasp's heart. Hopefully there will not be a next time but my adventures with wasps never seem to end. I have some wasp stories I need to tell too because it's truly a strange thing with me.  
> +Larceny Inc. (1942) is a fantastic movie. 10/10 Absolutely hilarious movie about a gangsters going straight.

~------~------~------~

Frisk awoke with the morning light beaming through the window. She had meant to set her alarm clock the night before but it was left forgotten in her flustered state. Groaning and pulling the blanket over her head, Frisk wanted nothing more than to sleep in. She rolled over, snuggling deep in the blanket. 

_‘A girl could get used to this.’_ she thought in a drowsy happiness. She needed to get a bed like this when she escaped the brothers. 

The brothers. 

Sans.

“Sans!” Frisk shot straight up. “Oh no! Oh no! I completely forgot!” 

Throwing the blanket off she stumbled straight for the dresser, yanked the drawers open, and quickly sorted through the clothes, pulling out a powder blue dress. She stared in great debate at it. The soft crepe dress was one of her nicer dresses but how fancy did she want to look? Sans was coming over to discuss all the secret business from the night before, it wasn’t an _actual_ date, she kept telling herself but she wanted to look nice. 

But Gaster made it clear she was at their mercy.

But Sans was really nice to her and she felt like she finally had someone else to talk too. 

But she was being used for her magic.

But he saved her from whatever Asriel had planned.

Throwing her hands up in the air, Frisk let out a disgusted scoff and decided she would wear the dress but not for Sans. The dress hadn’t been worn in awhile and it was perfect for the Spring weather. She reaffirmed her decision to wear it by choosing to also go shopping in it. Giving the little cupboards a quick look-through, Frisk settled on making breakfast for dinner tonight. “Let’s see, I can do a strudel and- would he like pumpernickel?” She paused for a moment thinking then decided not care because she liked pumpernickel and that was that. 

A small part of Frisk was terribly excited learning about the secret city happenings. Despite dancing in speakeasies for so long, she had always taken care to not get involved in the real business. Now with no choice, her curiosity was free to expand and she burned to understand what was actually going on. 

Watching the people pass by, Frisk wandered how many of them were involved in the gangs. How many knew of secret dealings from night prior and participated? The downtown area was Skeleton Brother territory but how many people were spies? How many people were oblivious? _'Ignorance is bliss until you overhear a murder plot at your job.'_ Frisk thought, more than a little bitterly. She found herself wandering down the avenue of _‘what ifs’_ and _‘if onlys’_. Concluding that line of thinking was most unhelpful, Frisk shook her mind free of it. Regardless of her actions, she would still be alone and potentially out of a job. At least this way, she was employed and had a plan of escape. 

But right now, she needed to buy more flour and jam. 

~------~------~

It was the slight change in demeanor, the drop in his smile, and thoughtful look on Gaster’s face that told Sans and Papyrus something was wrong. He had spent all night locked in his office, presumably reading over the papers Sans had stolen. When the eldest brother had finally emerged, he brought his worries with him. 

The younger brothers had just sat down to enjoy their morning coffee, Sans was thinking how thankful he was there hadn’t been lectured about the encounter with Asriel, when Gaster dragged himself in and plopped into a chair. 

“We have a problem.” Gaster announced. 

“Not with the negotiations, I hope.” remarked Papyrus, feeling a small moment of panic.

“No and even if there was it’d be the least of our concerns. Based on what you found,” explained Gaster, nodding over to Sans, “I have reason to believe that Chara is collecting souls." 

Through coughing and sputtering,as neither brother could keep his coffee down, Papyrus managed to choke out, "T-that's preposterous! The Hell does she think she's doing?" 

"Is that why Asriel sent the letter?" asked Sans quickly. Gaster let the question hang in the air before shrugging wearily. "Possibly. Our spies confirm there is an unusually high amount of people missing not only in our territory, but the Dreemurrs as well. She's being careful not to arouse suspicion. If word got out she was absorbing souls…" 

There would be an all out war against the criminal underbelly. For all their power and influence, neither the Dreemurr family nor Skeleton Brothers would survive an all out battle against the government. Soul absorption was a dark taboo- a cheap way to gain power and artificially increase magical abilities, but also highly addicting. For monsters, who were made of magic, it was the ultimate form of cannibalism. The person was thoroughly destroyed at the deepest level, not even their dust was left behind. No wonder she was able to grab onto so much territory in such a short amount of time. No wonder Chara was so brutal and aggressive. She needed her fix to keep her power, she needed her power to keep her fix. Chara was the only other magical human the Brothers knew of, and she had been raised in the lap of privilege and luxury. She knew the risks of what she was doing- she had too!- and it was little wonder Asgore wanted nothing to do with his adopted daughter. 

"Asriel wants a war against Chara, doesn't he? Is that why he asked for a ceasefire?" inquired Papyrus, trying to hid the trepidation in his voice. 

"I'm assuming so. While he has not outright asked for an allyship it's only a matter of time. Our patrols are increasing and we must continue to act quickly against her spies." Gaster let out a heavy sigh, resting his head against one hand. "Our little dancer is going to come in handy. There are several upcoming events I think believe she could be put to good use. I'll arrange for the three of you to attend." Sans froze under his brother's fierce gaze. " _Do not_ engage Asriel in such a manner ever again." Sans nodded quickly. 

"Now then the letters indicate others are aware something is amiss with the missing people but they aren't sure who or what is taking them. Our world is opening to the masses and they aren’t sure what course of action to take so we still have time to deal with this situation. If we are to approach Asriel with an allyship to take Chara down, I want more evidence of her actions. More importantly we need something to hang over his head to prevent betrayal.” explained Gaster. The brothers feel silent, digesting the information.

“What if we used him going behind Asgore’s back?” suggested Sans.

Papyrus shook his head. “Too easy. Besides Asgore knew what he was doing, making his son second-in-command. It’s expected for Asriel to take over someday regardless of circumstance. Why _is_ Asriel so determined to take her down? Is he hiding something?”

"Could be useful to come at him from that angle. Before we make any move however, there is still more work to do. Papyrus, since you handled the negotiations so well I want you to meet with Grillby later today. Finalize details with him and meet back with me. Sans, you've lucked out for today- you get it off. Go enjoy it." Without another word Gaster dismissed himself, making a beeline for his room to get some much needed sleep.

Leaning back in his chair, mock toasting his brother with a coffee cup, Sans exclaimed, "Well lucky me!" Papyrus rolled his eyes.

It was a mess to be ignored for later. Sans stared at the pile of clothes on the floor with disdain. He was overthinking it. It wasn't really a date. Frisk deserved to know what was going on, especially with her magic she could be targeted. If Chara ever found out about Frisk she would never be safe. The thought made him clench his fists. She couldn't even fight! Asriel was so close to her. What if he realized Frisk has magic? Would Gaster use her to forge an alliance? How could he protect her against his own brother? No, she was too special. Chara was the only other magical human they knew, Frisk was too valuable. 

He didn't want her to go away.

"It's just her magic. Not even around and she's affecting me." Sans reasoned. “It’s just her magic getting it’s hook in me, is all.” He didn’t sound very convincing. 

She favored lighter colors. Maybe something blue? 

Papyrus eyed his brother suspiciously, as Sans whistled his way to the door. The blue suit was too fancy for his usual games, he shouldn’t question it since Gaster did give him the night off but he did get into trouble over Asriel. "Where are you going?" Papyrus demanded. 

"Out." 

The wheels in his head turned as Papyrus remembered the night prior. He'd thought it strange how Sans jumped at the chance to walk her up. "To see the human?"

"Maybe." replied Sans, not looking at Papyrus. 

"She's a nice girl, Sans. Make sure she stays that way." 

~------~------~

What time did he say? Six? Sparing a quick glance at the clock, a hint of panic bloomed in her chest. "This is stupid. I am stupid." Frisk declared to the strudels. They held no answer for her and she sighed, eyeing her little table. The apartment was only furnished for one and certainly not monster size. "This is so bad. Hallo, yes, step into my home. We are to dine on the floor because I have a single small chair. Very good, Frisk, very good. You really thought this through." berated Frisk to herself. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress fretted with her hair. For the second time, she wondered if bobbing it was a good idea. Long dark hair added to her exotic act but she wasn't sure if that was even necessary now. Would Gaster have her perform again? It had not been mentioned. Pushing the thought away, she analyzed her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Grandmama always said she looked like such a classic Gibson Mädchen. The tears came unbidden and she carefully dabbed them away. Now was not the time for mourning.

Unable to sit still Frisk had been pacing in front of the door, practically throwing it open at the sound of the first knock. "Oh, um, moved pretty quick there, didn't ya?" greeted a startled Sans, hand still raised in mid-knock. She was wearing blue too. _‘Great, I’m twining with her now.’_

"Ahm, yes. Guten Abend. Come in." 

She felt like an awkward hostess. It hit suddenly how closed off she had been from others. Unable to think of anything polite to say, Frisk decided to get down to food and then business. "So, I thought breakfast for dinner would be nice. T-those are apple strudels and um, we have rye and pumpernickel bread. There ist Marmite and some vegetables." she hurriedly explained, gesturing to each dish. _'Oh Gott, I'm rambling.'_

"Wow, all this for a-ah," What should he call this, a date? Business meeting? Date meeting? Business date?! "Ah, a meeting." Perfectly neutral. A meeting could be anything. Sans felt like he was losing his bravado. This was more than he expected and Frisk was so formal. For some who danced around high society, he felt a bit embarrassed about his lack of manners around her. "Thanks for the food, darlin'." 

"I only have one chair." she blurted out.

"What?"

"Mein Gott. I only have one chair. I was not thinking. Um, it's a bit small. I don't mind standing." she waved her hands around frantically, gesturing at the floor and chair. 

Sans bit back a laugh. "Floors fine with me. Just pass me the food, I'm good." he chuckled. 

Her relief was almost palpable. "I'll sit on the floor too. Help me move the food down?" 

In between moving the plates, Sans started, "So what I found at the party."

"Yes?"

"It wasn't anyt'ing good." He didn't think bringing up the speakeasy was a good idea so decided to dance around it. "Ah-awhile back we found out folks were going missin'. Normally that's not sumthin' we really care about but there was a rumor Chara was behind it. Well last night, one of the letters I nabbed was about the missing people and Wings has enough evidence that it all points back to Chara and…" he trailed off. She looked at him with those big brown eyes, all wide with anticipation, and he found himself melting. 

Frisk leaned forward, eager to hear the big mystery revealed. "Go on. Your secret's safe with me." she said with a smile, crossing her heart with a mischievous smile on her face.

"Chara is absorbing souls." 

The smile fell almost instantly. "What do you mean?" asked a bewildered Frisk. 

With a heavy sigh, Sans continued, "Chara is absorbing people's souls. She has magic too. I think it was why Asgore adopted her. Taking people's souls enhances her own power and it's how she gained so much territory so fast while fighting on two fronts. Others are starting to notice the missing people so it's becoming a bit of an issue. She's careful not to take folks outta her own territory so they’re disappearin’ from ours and the Dreemurr territory.." He sat back, watching her closely. Frisk brought her hand up to her lips and looked away, almost fearful. That was what Olivia had said that night. She really wasn’t lying. The old fear of being trapped in a corner rushed back to Frisk. When she didn’t say anything, Sans continued on. 

"Asriel is going behind his pa's back with this one. We have a ceasefire with him. Wings thinks we should ally together and take the bit- woman down. We have to get more information first- mostly dirt on Asriel if he tries to betray us. I don't think he will over something like this but ya neva' know." Sans ended with a shrug.

An icy fear gripped Frisk's heart. This was too much. She expected smuggling and even horrible murders but taking people's souls? She didn't even know someone could take a person's soul. With no appetite for food remaining, she stared sadly at it. "How does someone even do that?" she asked sadly, not really wanting an answer.

"I don't want to get into details. It's taboo for monsters too." said Sans. Gaster told him once what it involved. He never did find out how his brother knew. He didn't want to. 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

Sans didn’t have an answer for her. On a surface level, she should be aware of what’s going on since Gaster wanted her to spy for them. She didn’t have to be told however, they had plenty of underlings who had no idea what was going on that still blindly followed them. He just wanted…

It had to be her magic that caused this. That’s why he was here. He fell straight under her spell yet again. And yet…

He couldn’t justify being here. He shouldn’t be here. Telling her anything could jeopardize everything they worked so hard for. 

“I, ah, just thought you should know. Since you’re workin’ for us and all that.” he stated quickly, not wanting to look at her.

“Oh. Of course.” Frisk felt a little hurt. She wasn’t sure what she wanted Sans to say but that certainly was not it. Wanting to diffuse the uncomfortable atmosphere that was slowly forming, “Well thank you regardless. It’s nice knowing what’s going on.” she said, giving a small smile. 

_‘Dammit to Hell and back.’_ Papyrus’ words echoed in the back of his mind. Why should Paps care what he was doing here or how he treated her? It wasn’t any of his business. 

Sans rubbed the back of his neck, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the whole conversation. “Yea. Sure. No problem.” 

“So, I’ve been wondering how did you and your brothers get started in all this?” asked Frisk, eager to change the conversation. 

“All of what?” 

With an exasperated sigh, Frisk explained, “All of this! Being gangsters! How did it start?” 

“We needed a way to put bread on the table.”

“Rye or pumpernickel?” she asked with a snicker.

“Don’t get smart with me, kid. We're sitting on the floor.” he replied with a laugh, grabbing some bread and jam. “It’s a long story.”

Frisk shrugged and smiled. “I have time. Unless you have somewhere you need to be.” Despite the dark conversation, she didn’t quite want him to go. Not just yet.

 _No, right here with you is just where I want to be._ Was what he wanted to say. “I’ve got all the time in da world. So where to begin?”


	9. Everyone has their secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief explanation of our dear Brothers and their operations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your girl is done with math. Like straight through to my masters, I'll never have to take another math class.   
> Words can not describe the absolute relief I feel right now. Pro tip: Community colleges are fantastic for getting pre-reqs done at half the cost. Totally go for a general studies associate's before moving on with a bachelors. Even if you change majors, all the basics are already completed. I failed this class twice prior and third time really is a charm. Never give up on your education! 
> 
> +I have many thoughts on The Good Earth (1937). It's a tale warning against becoming greedy and the importance of strengthening familial bonds. There is also a whole lot of yellow face and it's pathetic a full Chinese cast was not found. I do recommend the movie however, it's still a classic and a good one despite the flaws. It's also interesting seeing how much influence both Generalissimo and Madame Kai-Shek had over the film and how much was lost. Madame Kai-Shek and her sisters are interesting people so at the very least, I recommend reading up on them. You can say Madame Kai-Shek is in part responsible for the state China is in now. I have many feels towards that woman and respect is certainly one of them, despite her weakness and irresponsibility with her husband's behavior.  
> +The Seven Faces of Doctor Loa suffers from the same issue of yellow face. It's starts off a little slow but overall is pretty enjoyable. The special effects for that time period are pretty neat and well done. Again, just be aware, Doctor Loa is played by Tony Randall who is most certainly not Chinese. It's a bit disappointing because Chinese actors were certainly a thing but at this point, we know better but lamenting won't change either film. I recommend both them, The Good Earth a bit more so than Doctor Loa.

~------~------~------~

The snow was up to his knees, slowing his movements. He was already weighed down from carrying Papyrus on his back. Gaster walked further ahead of them, looking back every once and awhile to make sure his little brother was still following. 

"Hurry up, Sans!"

"You're going too fast!" yelled Sans.

"You're walking too slow!" Gaster retorted.

Sans let out a groan and willed his legs to go faster. Supposedly they were going to a new home. Supposedly Gaster had managed to find a job. Supposedly they wouldn't be living out of a cold, dark cave anymore. He didn't want to get his hopes up. So much had already happened to them, he didn’t dare risk feeling hopeful. 

Gaster stopped walking, outstretching his hand for Sans to take. “It's almost night. We’ll never get there at this rate. Come on.” 

“Are we there yet?” Papyrus whined, tightening his grip around Sans’ neck, shivering violently from the cold.

“Almost. Snowdin is up ahead. Don’t choke Sans, Papyrus.” replied Gaster. 

“It’s fine. We’re just cold.” muttered Sans. Gaster gave a short huff and kneeled before his brothers. He placed his hands on Sans and Papyrus, staring at them evenly. “I promise everything is going to be better. Trust me, alright?”

“O-okay.” Sans had started to tremble slightly, feeling the cold bit into his leg bones. It was easier to ignore if they kept moving. 

Gaster held Sans’ hand the whole way to Snowdin, keeping his pace slow enough for his younger brother. He held his head high as they walked into town. Filled with purpose and determination to have a better life, he would do whatever it took to achieve it. They headed straight for the old Snowed Inn. The one and only chance he had was in there. 

“I’m going to leave you two in the lobby. Stay there and do not leave or speak to anyone.” he ordered. Sans and Papyrus both nodded their understanding, too cold to say much more. Inside Sans set Papyrus down on a chair, hopped up, and embraced his brother. Papyrus shrank back into his thin coat staring around the room with big eyes. 

“Wings! Don’t leave!” Papyrus whined, reaching his arms out. 

“Stay here.” replied Gaster firmly, not bothering to turn around as he headed for the back of the inn. The receptionist paid the young skeleton monsters no mind, burying her face into a newspaper. 

“He’s coming back right?” whispered Papyrus, clutching onto Sans. “Right, Sans?”

Sans had no answers. Gaster had been like stone when he had tried to talk to him. For the past week, he was either off in Snowdin or perpetually pacing their small cave, hardly acknowledging his brothers. Whilst Gaster had grown distant after their parents died, he had never been so cold before. Sans held Papyrus tightly in the unfamiliar place, feeling as though the hug alone could protect his baby brother. The warmth of the inn felt nice after being cold for so long and Papyrus quickly dozed off. Sleep pushed Sans’ eyes down and he shook his head desperately to stay awake. He wanted to be alert, to think, to plan just in case. 

“Sans? Papyrus? Get up.” came a soft voice. 

“Mmm… Dad?” muttered a sleepy Sans. He forced his eyes open, rubbing them groggily. 

Gaster gave a sad, soft chuckle. “No. It’s just me. Come on, get up. I booked us a room for a couple days.” he explained, helping his brothers to their feet. 

“Where’d you-” Sans stopped suddenly, staring wide eyed at Gaster’s face. Half of his face was wrapped up and one eye had a thin line going down from it, slowly trickling out dust. “Don’t say a word.” Gaster gritted out, not looking at Sans. 

He turned sharply leaving Sans and Papyrus to catch up to him. Papyrus was too tired to have noticed but Sans stared intensely at his brother's back. Entering the room, Gaster picked up Papyrus and tucked him into bed. Sans stood defiantly near the door, wringing his hands in nervous confusion. “What happened?” Sans whispered.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“No! Tell me now!” Sans demanded in a harsh whisper. 

Gaster glared down at him. “I said later.” 

“That’s not good enough! There’s dust!” yelled Sans. Immediately he clapped his hands over his mouth and looked over at the bed. He jumped slightly when Gaster placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to be fine and that’s all that matters.” was Gaster’s short response. Sans hadn’t noticed before but Gaster’s hands were also bandaged up. He was afraid of what happened to Gaster, afraid of all the secrecy. He wanted to go home but that didn’t exist anymore for them. He wanted to protect his brothers but felt left out of whatever Gaster was doing. 

“Please?” 

Gaster looked down at Sans, his face unreadable. “Later.” 

Morning brought no answers but Papyrus had noticed his brother's bandages and face. Gaster reluctantly removed the covering across his face, revealing the other line. His one eye almost looked warped down. Sans and Papyrus stared at him in shock. 

“Don’t worry about it.” he said curtly. 

They ate their breakfast in silence, Sans not questioning where money for the food came from. He didn’t question Gaster when he left later that evening nor when he came back, almost as the sun was beginning to rise. 

A month of the same activity later, Sans didn’t question how they were suddenly able to afford a house on the edge of town. He held his tongue when Gaster started speaking of smuggling and joining a gang. He didn’t ask why Gaster owed so much money or who the person was. 

Sans didn’t question when they started leaving Papyrus alone to smuggle crates onto the surface together. He pushed back his confusion and fear when they started doing hit jobs and backroom dealings. When he was older, Papyrus gleefully joined them, happy to finally help his brothers. 

Sans didn’t question when they began to gain territory on the surface, when attempted hits on them and others became commonplace, when they had formed their own gang, capable of defending everything they had earned.

With their ferocious reputation to uphold, Sans didn't have time to question why this was their life. He pushed down all regret at never going to school or sending Papyrus to one. 

They had to kill their enemies.

They had to make a profit and keep reaching higher.

They had a gang that relied on them for money and protection.

Sans couldn't question Gaster's judgment or choices, couldn't undermine his brother's authority. 

It was easier to occasionally drown in a bottle, to forget life before their parents died.

‘ _ Later.’ _ never came and he and Papyrus became so used to the empty holes on Gaster’s hand, the warped eye, and the scars running down his face, it never occurred for him to ask again,  _ 'What happened?' _

_ ~------~------~ _

__ He didn’t tell her any of his childhood. It was easy to start with the smuggling. They were young, dumb, and needed money. She didn’t need to know they already had a house, that Gaster never explained that day at the inn. It was easier to pretend none of it ever happened.

“Ah, so is smuggling how all gangsters get started?” asked Frisk. 

“Yup. Easy to get into, easy to make contacts, easy to figure out what sells the best. Smugglers are a dime a-dozen but the smart ones go places.” Sans explained. 

She sat across from him, digesting the information. As far as Frisk could tell, he wasn’t lying to her but she did want to know what happened to his parents. Understanding that pain however, she bit her questions back. Frisk didn’t want to reopen old scars for Sans or herself. It wasn’t necessary. Sans didn’t offer up any stories about the jobs he did. It was something she probably wouldn’t enjoy and he didn’t want to ruin the relaxed mood he found himself in. 

“So what about you? Why speakeasies? You’re talented enough to get into any ritzy club in town.” 

Frisk gave a nervous laugh. “Ah, I needed quick money. It was easier to go to speakeasies since they don’t really screen performers.” Well so much for not digging up old scars. She was eager to change the conversation before he asked what the money was for. “So, if you weren’t a gangster, what would you do?” Frisk asked quickly. 

He munched on a strudel, trying to think of a good answer. “Hadn’t really thought of it, ya know? Well if I had to pick, probably somethin’ normal, like sellin’ suitcases.” 

“Suitcases?”

“Yup. Think of all the possibilities. I could sell perfectly normal suitcases but if I ever wanted to smuggle something it would be the perfect set up. No one would suspect a thing!” 

“I think you mean the perfect  _ suit- _ up.” Frisk replied with a grin. 

Sans let out a laugh. “I’ll give ya a discount for that one, if I eva’ go straight. What about you?”

“Hm, maybe a bakery? No, a flower shop! I would open a flower shop and sell treats on the side.” Frisk declared, quite proud of her answer. 

_ ‘Yea, that’s something you’d like.’ _ Not for the first time, Sans regretted he didn’t bring her flowers. He silently promised the next time he saw Frisk, she’d have flowers. 

Unable to think of a good reason to say and unable to realistically stay the night, Sans reluctantly decided to leave. “Just keep in mind all the stuff ‘bout Chara. Wings said there’s another event we’ll be going to soon. I’m sure he’ll have more details for ya.” Sans said, standing up. “Do ya want some help with this?” He gestured to the empty plates on the floor. 

Frisk shook her head. “I think I can manage a few empty plates. Besides, you’re the guest.” She stood up with him. Neither spoke for a moment, Sans not wanting to leave and Frisk not quite sure what she wanted. 

“So um-” “You have-” They began at once. 

“Heh, you have a good night, Frisk.” Sans murmured, quickly leaving before he could say anything stupid. 

He wanted nothing more than to stay here with her. To stay on the floor swapping stories and eating treats. He wanted to know what flowers she liked, was blue her favorite color? 

His soul burned for her and Sans worried what would happen if he said how he felt. 

Frisk stood there alone, staring at the floor. If he didn’t teleport, she could catch up to him.  _ 'And say what?' _ Her feet guided her body to the door. He wouldn’t be at the elevator yet, if she ran she could stop him. Call out his name. 

Call him back to her.

She could...

Frisk rested her head against the door. “Stop it, heart. Stick to the plan."


	10. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As plans are laid into motion our heroine shakes off her confusion, choosing her heart over her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ay-yo in my master Google docs copy this chapter ends on page 96. That's the naughtiest joke I know and it only works twice with this so. Ay-yo! Can't believe I've written 96 pages. Really I hope didn't overwork this chapter, with the term over I don't have much to keep me occupied, and I wanted to move the plot on a bit more. If I'm over explaining at any point, please let me know because it's a bad habit and I'm trying to improve. Also this is being posted at 3 am. I'm mildly horrified it's 3 am. I'm 28. This is way past my bedtime. Like being awake is past my bedtime but like this is way late for me. I ain't wakin' up till noon today. Tomorrow. A time. I'll wake at a time. Sounds good.  
> +Another Earth(2011) is a movie I have no words for. It's emotional and amazing. It starts off slow and keeps a relaxed pace throughout, so if you're looking for something fast paced or filled with action, this isn't it. Think of I Think We're Alone Now(2018) in terms of pacing. It's a character study-ish with a dash of sci-fi and a massive side helping of feels. Omigod, all the feels.  
> \+ What We Do in the Shadows, both the movie and tv show, is the greatest gift to planet Earth to date. Every episode is amazing. In my household we ask ourselves, "What would Jackie Daytona do?"  
> +Lifeforce(1998) dear Lord, dear God, why did this happen? What is happening? What did we do to be cursed with such a movie? How was this allowed to be? How did the actors go through it with such bored faces? Also the name Tobe Hooper reminds me of "TOPHEERRR!" I yelled that during the opening credits. I also wish to pronounce the name Tobe Hooper are Tove Hoefer and being an adult, no one can stop me. We survived 51 minutes of it, which I deserve an award for by the way. I need alcohol to finish it. I can't do it sober. There are some movies that are so bad they're good. This isn't one of them. Holy cow, the pain. The actual physical pain I felt watching it. It's bad. It's really bad but if you have the required crackhead energy to MST3K the whole 1 hour and 42 minutes, then go for it. I can't give you my blessings but know you're braver than I. It is a very memeable movie though, I'll give it that.

~------~------~------~

The shrill ringing of the phone scared Frisk straight out of her chair. Shooting up, she rushed over to it, quickly answering it. "Hallo?"

"Good morning, Miss Frisk. I trust you are doing well?" came Gaster's voice from the other end.

"Ah, yes! Thank you! And yourself?" 

"Very well. A party is going to be held within two weeks from now, at a club. I've set it up for you to perform there. You'll need to go and figure out the details. You'll be escorted over later today."

"Al-alright." she stammered out. The way Gaster simply ordered things to happen never ceased to unnerve her. 

"Excellent. Sans should be there," a brief pause and Frisk could hear the sound ruffling papers, "around three. Be ready."

"I shall. Thank you for the call." 

The other end went silent. Frisk held the phone up to her ear for a moment longer, just to be sure. She sighed in relief when there was no noise. "So strange, he does not even say goodbye." she muttered. "Around three?" Frisk looked at the clock. In a couple hours she was going to see Sans. Her heart thumped against her chest so ferociously Frisk thought it was going to burst forth. Taking a steady breath, she sat back down. "Stop it, you stupid girl. This is ridiculous." she declared aloud. She was being escorted around again. Gaster didn’t trust her enough to complete tasks alone, perhaps he had her watched still? Ever the homebody Frisk hardly left her little studio anyways. She couldn’t spend her precious money galavanting all throughout town. Despite being careful with her initial paycheck, Frisk was nowhere near the amount needed. A train ticket, money left over for food, enough to get an apartment or even a down payment on a house- she felt nearly overwhelmed at the thought of it all. Helplessness and anxiety bubbled within her soul. There was so much to plan for and she wanted so much to be done with this wretched city, the gangs, all the bloody secrets, and _him._

Ever since that night, Frisk found herself in a state of utter confusion, unable to justify her growing feelings yet unable to squash them. Something about the way he talked about his past made Frisk’s heart go out to him. There was a hidden pain she didn’t need magic to see. He hadn’t told her everything but she didn’t think he lied -too much at least- about it. He could’ve been cruel when they first met, could’ve treated her like the prisoner she truly was. _‘_ _You won't trip because I'll catch you…’_

Frisk hadn’t forgotten. Did Sans really mean it or was he as flustered as she was? Angered by her traitorous heart, she muttered, “Stop being so stupid. They view you as nothing more than a special little toy.” 

Unsure of what this new event would hold, Frisk decided she would practice her magic. Her little bubble shield had increased from her little finger to her whole hand. Not incredibly practical but maybe that meant her ability to influence others on a conscious level had also increased? She was at her strongest performing but that didn’t help off the stage when she couldn’t control it. She needed to learn how to manipulate, gain the upperhand, and be relentless. Frisk felt uncomfortable in her new goal. She didn’t want to manipulate and use others, to see people as nothing more than tools. She wanted to dance and be happy but only one of those things was going to aid her now. 

Sitting in the middle of the floor, Frisk focused on her hand, narrowing her gaze. “Pink bubble, pink bubble, pink bubble…” she chanted. The thin outline of the shield appeared stretched down to her wrist. She didn’t know how strong it actually was, carefully tapping it against the floor. It felt solid enough but against someone trained with their own magic or a gun, she couldn’t be sure of it. Her head began to pound as she maintained the shield around her hand. “27, 28, 29, 30..” she counted each second it held between gritted teeth. The larger the shield grew, so did the concentration and energy required to maintain it. With a gasp, the shield dissipated into nothingness. “Only 33 seconds. I need to get better.” She bit down on her lip in worry. She wasn’t improving fast enough. Despite her initial reluctance, Frisk wondered once more if she should ask Gaster for help. 

Thankfully Sans was sent alone to fetch Frisk. Gaster had him running jobs left, right, and center the past couple of days, and he relished finally having a chance to breathe. Whether or not Papyrus had said anything to Gaster about the visit to Frisk, Sans couldn’t be sure but it almost felt like a punishment with all the work he was doing. With how busy he’d been kept, there had not been a chance to dwell on that evening with her. Chara’s goons had been caught too many times since the charity ball, and under the theory she was absorbing souls, either her addiction was increasing or she was building power. Neither answer boded well and Sans was getting ancy thinking about the rival gangster. 

As far as he knew, Asriel hadn’t communicated any further with them and Sans wondered if he intended to use them as pawns to take down Chara. She needed to be taken out, obviously, but things were appearing more and more one sided with the brothers doing all the work. If Sans and his brothers were at all weakened, Asriel could just as easily turn his ambition to them. With three rival gangs, they were kept in check and balanced by each other. Asriel already had his father’s empire, who would take over Chara’s? They weren’t sure who her second-in-command was. 

If there was a can in the car, Sans would’ve kicked it down the street. The simplicity of the underworld was either all thrown out of balance or he was overthinking. Too tired to consider the entirety of the situation, he turned his mind to the business at hand. At least there was one silver to the day and he was on the way to see her. 

With Sans taking care of business on the club’s end, Papyrus was left to deal with Grillby, who was testing the new type of alcohol tonight. He tried to ask Papyrus about it but surprisingly was met with a brick wall. 

“You’ll find out about it later, at the real party.” Papyrus had explained, with a mischievous smirk. 

A new secret brew from Grillby. Again. The last one caused the drinker to blow up and Sans’ chuckled at the memory. But that had been a one time event to take out a group much larger than their own. This was going to be sold on the blackmarket with everything else or so Sans thought. He was a bit annoyed being kept in the dark by his brothers but whatever it was, Gaster was excited and had waited months for it to be completed, so it had to be good is what Sans told himself. 

Whilst Frisk was setting up her performance, Sans was to make sure everything was in place for them. The club owner was excited to host the Skeleton Brothers, promising to only serve the brand new liquor they had ‘ _procured_ ’. It was another event the Dreemurrs were expected to send an envoy too, though at Gaster’s behest. Whatever was going to happen, it would be a show of Skeleton Brother’s power, not Asriel’s. 

Sans gritted his teeth and clenched his fists at potentially seeing Asriel again. That damn little rat bastard had a way of driving him crazy and the thought of him watching Frisk dance was rage inducing. Whatever reason Asriel had been so chatty with her that night, Sans didn’t want to dwell one. On top of his attitude, the kid had a whole other different type of reputation. Frisk didn’t need to be another notch in his bedpost. Sans unclenched his fists, taking steadying breaths. It wasn’t just Asriel he felt anger towards, it was everyone who was going to be watching her. They didn’t deserve to watch her dance. 

Sans wanted to punch something so deep was his frustration. Instead, he was stuck in the car on the way to see Frisk so she could be put in a bad situation. The club was bigger than any speakeasy she ever danced in and the guests were of sharper minds, if not more malicious. If anyone got a whiff of her magic, Frisk would be compromised as a spy and Sans wasn’t sure how Gaster would handle that. Nevermind the last time he and his brothers had visited, there was an all out brawl. One of many, if memory served correctly. _‘Of all the places, you just had to pick that one.’_ thought Sans, as exasperation and fatigue overtook the anger. He couldn’t begin to understand Gaster’s thought process but everything had a way of working out. 

He stared at her door for a good minute debating every second. Sans had brought her flowers, a small bouquet of bright asters. Though not as big as the other bouquets in the shop, it held a certain charm he thought Frisk would like. The cashier wouldn’t stop smiling at Sans when he brought it up to the register, ducking her head giggling, and asked if it was for a girl he fancied. 

The cashier never did tell him what they meant and he had a sneaky suspicion Frisk knew. Staring down at the little bouquet Sans began to doubt himself. Part of him wondered if he should toss the bouquet away, perhaps it would be better if he was never the one to bring her flowers. He mustered up some courage and knocked. 

She opened the door as soon as he lifted his fist away from it, causing him to jump. _‘Was she really waiting for me again?’_ With her usual cheerfulness Frisk said, “Good afternoon Sans!”

“These are for you. For ah, the other night. And food.” he hurriedly explained, thrusting the little bouquet forward. She took the bouquet, her eyes going wide for a brief moment, a blush forming on her cheeks.

_‘Oh shit, she does know what they mean.’_ Given her pink cheeks, Sans couldn’t decide if he should be embarrassed or elated. 

“Ah, thank you. They are… they are lovely.” she murmured, gently stroking the flowers. Peeking up at Sans, Frisk wasn’t sure if he knew what the flowers symbolized or not. Roses weren’t the only flowers given out of love. “Let me set them in water and I’ll be ready.” She didn’t have a proper vase but a cup would do. Staring at the dainty flowers, Frisk felt her soul dance wildly about. If she was waiting for a sign, this certainly felt like one. “Thank you.” she said again, meeting him by the elevator. 

“Yea, of course. Nothin’ to it. Thought you might like some after talking about openin’ a flower shop and all that.” he said, staring at the wall. 

"Thank you all the same. I love them." She replied, feeling quite pleased. Sans simply grunted his response. It was not until they were in the car did he say anything more to her. “So to give ya the lowdown, this club isn’t exactly the safest place in town. A lot of merchandise passes through it but there’s not a whole lotta security. At the party, it’ll be more than just me and Paps though. Just sumthin’ to keep in mind.”

“What is the event exactly? Gaster didn’t explain much.” Frisk asked.

“It’s a fancy-ish casual get together. No pretenses though, most people know why they’re attending.” 

“Anything I should be aware of?” Frisk wanted to be prepared, more so than what she was for the charity ball. 

Sans leaned into the seat debating how much to tell her. She shouldn’t be told about the alcohol. It was an operation Gaster had thus far kept her separated from. “The last time we were there a massive fight broke out. It’s a fancy lookin’ dive bar, basically. I can’t stress enough how important it is to be aware of _everyone_.”

“Then why there?”

Sans shrugged. “Business opportunity. Leave it at that.” 

Taking his advice, Frisk turned her thoughts elsewhere. “Have you been busy?” she asked, looking up at him. With his shoulders slouched down and the way he leaned back into the car seat, Sans was the epitome of someone who needed a hard nap. “Lots goin’ on, darlin’.” he sighed. “Nothing you need to worry about though.” 

“Anything to do with Chara?” Frisk pressed. He tensed up before explaining, “All of it to do with her. A couple of her thugs tried to extort money outta _our_ people. Sorry, doll, it’s business.” he said when she frowned. “In just the past, what has it been? Three days? We’ve caught at least ten of them prowling around. She’s getting bolder or they’re getting desperate.”

“What about the people they’re kidnapping? Is it anyone or are they targeting specific people?” Frisk asked, feeling like a regular detective. 

“Never thought ‘bout that. They’re just people I guess. Some from our territory, some from the Dreemurrs, mostly it’s been anyone getting caught alone or too drunk to cause a scene.” Sans left it up to Gaster to figure out, though initially it was something he thought of too. If they knew the type of person being targeted, then they could set up traps and ambushes yet every attack appeared so random, he couldn’t discern a pattern. “Anyways,” he huffed, “it’s not something you need ta worry about.” Frisk didn’t look reassured. He thought if she knew how many operatives they had downtown, it’d be a bit more comforting but that also meant implying how many operatives they had keeping an eye on _her_. Picking a truth laying somewhere in the middle, Sans continued, “We have enough people downtown, they can’t easily get in.”

It was reassuring knowing they had people all around but a different anxiety swirled in Frisk. How many people were around her? She thought about this quandary, watching the buildings pass by. Looking back over to Sans, he appeared to be sound asleep. A small smile teased at her lips. It wouldn’t be such a big thing if she leaned over a little, pretending to nap too. Slowly, cautiously, with her heart beating so loud she was sure he would wake to it, Frisk leaned against him and closed her eyes. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by the Asters but they meant the world to her. 

It was too short of a respite before the car stopped. Frisk, who never truly fell asleep, sat up. Sans still looked to be out cold. Sitting up on her knees, not wanting to question why she was doing this, gently ran a finger down his face. “Hey sleepyhead. Time to get up.” she whispered. The instant he stirred, Frisk shot back down. 

Rubbing the grogginess off of his face, Sans reluctantly woke. _‘Strange. Coulda swore I heard Frisk just now.’_ he thought, as his eyes adjusted. Frisk sat politely and quietly next to him, waiting expectantly. “You’re awake! I didn’t want to disturb you. We’ve just arrived.” she beamed before hopping out of the car. Pushing himself out of the car, Sans eyed their surroundings. For all it’s faults the club was in the wealthier part of the city, the streets clean and practically shining, the buildings still holding onto the last bit of old grandiose architecture. It was the last place anyone would ever expect a violent popular gangster club to be at. As with the many illegal speakeasies dotted around The Big City, the club operated on a front, daylighting as an exclusive restaurant. On the border of Dreemurr and Skeleton Brother territory, Sans and Frisk didn’t simply waltz right in. 

Instead, Sans kept Frisk close by his side as they entered, giving her a quick warning, “Don’t get pulled away from me until we’re in the club.” Inside, Frisk couldn’t understand what the big deal was. If opulence were to ever manifest in the real world the restaurant would be it. The interior harkened back to French Rococo castles, dripping in gold and wealth with it’s people just as gilded. Frisk could not begin to imagine the lifestyles led by some of the patrons she glimpsed. 

Trying not to swivel her head around too rudely, Frisk kept a tight grip on Sans' arm. It was not the maître d' who greeted them but another man standing beside him. “Good afternoon. Please follow me.” he said turning, without bothering to wait for them. They were led through a small empty room that Frisk assumed to be the coat closet for the actual club before entering the main hall. She stood in shock for a moment gazing at the club. Capped underneath a high vaulted ceiling with an intricate candelabra was a room no less grand. Tall pillars, more decorative than structural, trimmed with faux greenery and shiny gold. Given the reputation for violence Sans said this place had, Frisk assumed most of the shininess was fake. She was surprised to see the room split into two levels, with an upper half area overlooking the room. _'Must be where the special guests sit, away from all the others.'_ The brothers would likely be up there but who else was supposed to be attending? Thinking back to the charity ball, it might be better not to ask.

“Guy over by the stage is who’ll ya want ta talk to. Sans, folla’ me so we can get the back ready.” the man said suddenly, dropping his professional demeanor. Sans gave her a half hearted wave before leaving. Feeling apprehensive, she carefully approached the man directing the various people on the stage. 

“No! I said the purple curtains! Those are magenta. MA! GEN! TA! Ya daft little bi- oh hello there.” he stopped short looking over at Frisk. She gave him a nervous smile. 

“Hello, I’m Frisk Engel. I’m, ah, supposed to get a routine set up with some musicians for the show. I’m uh, a belly dancer.” she hurriedly explained, not wanting to be yelled at too. 

“Nice ta meet ya, Frisk. Name’s Ben and I'm da owner of this here joint. If you ain’t the ripest tomato I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Frisk blushed, feeling a bit overwhelmed by his demeanor. “So now, you’ra belly dancer? We used ta have a dame doin’ dat but she retired. Our set is pretty much booked up- there’s at least five different groups ‘sides yerself. You’re the first ta arrive so lucky you. I think we have you as the third act. That suits you fine, ya?” Frisk smiled and nodded, letting Ben continue on. “Perfect because the set ain’t changin’ but since you’re the first to arrive, you get dibs on usin’ the stage ta practice on once THOSE FOOKIN’ PALOOOOOKAAS figura out how to set it up.” He glared over at the stage hands who glared back at him. “Any questions so far? Keepin’ up?” 

“Where are the musicians I’ll be working with?” she asked. Her trepidation gone, Frisk was a little amused at the whole situation. 

“Aye yo, Suta! Your dancer is here.” he shouted to a man lazily strumming an Oud. The sight of the instrument made Frisk’s leap for joy. She missed dancing to real music, as great as her little apartment was, nothing compared to being surrounded by musicians on a stage. 

The musician, Suta, glanced up at the approaching duo, sparing them a quick smile. “That’s nice and all but we don’t exactly have anywhere to practice.” 

“Well that’s just a darn shame, it’s almost like you’ll have to deal. With. It. Until everything gets set up.” replied Ben with an angry smile.

Suta shrugged and went back to strumming. “Now that’s all settled have fun! When the shouting ends you can use the stage.” explained Ben as he rushed away. 

“The others’ll be here soon. We’re all a bit early. The songs are already picked out, if that’s fine with you.” said Suta, handing her a list of three songs. Frisk gave them a quick glance, recognizing most of them. “I don’t know the last one.” she replied, handing it back. Suta strummed it out for Frisk who danced in a small circle, feeling the music out. As the other performers filtered in, the rest of the exotic act band joined Suta and Frisk. The comradery that welcomed her into their circle was refreshing. It also helped they were a legitimate band who specialized in Egyptian music. The authenticity of the music style was something she sorely missed dancing at speakeasies. 

They scooted around the main hall accordingly, dancing and playing and laughing, as chairs and tables were set into place, paintings either removed or added, and Ben’s neverending barking of orders at the stagehands echoing throughout the club. The other performers and bands streamed in, filling the room with many a body and sound. Most were in full costume or close enough Frisk regretted not wearing her own or different shoes, as the small heels did nothing to aid in her comfort or movements. _‘At least the dress has a nice swoosh!’_ Frisk thought happily as she twirled. 

Though only five groups were performing, it felt like a massive production with all the activity in the room. She analyzed each group, identifying the different styles of entertainment. Frisk was rather proud to see she was the only belly dancer though having someone else to swap moves with would’ve been nice. She was worried about becoming stagnant in her style and made a mental note to ask if Suta knew of any other dancers around. 

She laughed her onto the stage with the musicians as they shifted across it, the other performers would have to wait their turn. They were able to quickly devise a basic routine for each song, except the unfamiliar one. Sitting in a circle off stage to allow the other performers a chance to practice in turn, Suta wrote up a practice schedule. They would meet back here tomorrow morning, ideally before the others arrived, and practice the last song first. He wrote down directions to a music shop where Frisk could get buy a cheap record player along with some belly dance records. She held the paper close to her heart, feeling once more like a true dancer. 

With the back room ready for shipment and a security plan in place, though he doubted it would be implemented, Sans made his way into the main club hall. In a few short hours, most of the tables had been set up and decor was being finalized. Within the week, they should have everything nailed in enough that if a fight broke out, very little would be broken. Panic nipped at him when he didn’t see Frisk anywhere. There were too many people moving about for him to stand still long enough to find her. Though he didn’t have much energy for it, Sans teleported to the upper seating level, hoping to get a better vantage point. 

Frisk was sitting in a circle with a group of musicians, their heads bent over some paper, in a corner near the stage, almost hidden among all the activity. Whatever was said made her happier than what Sans had ever seen before. Resisting the urge to stomp over and pull her away from them, he teleported back to the lower level. 

“I didn’t realize the guests were already showing up.” muttered one of the musicians. Frisk turned to see what he meant and beamed when she saw Sans. 

“He’s here with me! I think it’s time to go, see everyone tomorrow!” she said cheerfully, standing up and skipped over to Sans, grinning from ear to ear. “Hallo Sans! I have some errands if we’re all done here. How did things go with you?”

“Well enough. We should get some dinner.” he replied eyeing the group behind her. Despite the fatigue setting in, he wasn't going to let it stop him from intimidating the group, just so they knew not to try anything with her. 

“It’s that late already? I can make us something if you want.” she offered, secretly hoping he would say yes, oblivious to his chest puffing in her excitement. Sans thought about it, looking around the room. The noise from the performers practicing, the chattering of people, heavy footfalls as things were shifted around were near overwhelming in his tired state. “If you’re offering then yea. Sounds like a plan.” 

Practically running circles around him on their way to the car, Frisk chattered excitedly about the performance. “I’m getting a record player! Suta, he’s like the manager of them, told me about this place where I can get a cheap one _and_ some records for belly dancing! Do you like chicken? I can make soup! I’m good at soups. Or I can do pancakes again if you prefer. What about fruit? I have lots of strawberries!” Frisk said, her words almost crashing into each other. 

“Soup sounds good.” Sans muttered as he sank into the car seat. 

“Chicken soup it is! Tomorrow we’re meeting up again for practice, will you be here too?”

 _‘Yea tomorrow. There’s things going on.’_ Sans thought sleepily as he drifted off. 

Noticing Sans had fallen back asleep, Frisk ceased her excited chatter though somewhat disappointed. She resolved to make at least one friend before the party, just so she’d have someone to talk too when it was all over. Planning a routine, dancing to live music, dancing in such a fancy club! It’s a shame all this preparation was done for the entertainment of gangsters, that she was just there for a one time job. Reality weighed in like a wet blanket. _‘All this just to spy for a night.’_ Frisk felt a little bitter. Suta’s band was good and dancing to them reminded her of when she first learned to belly dance. They had such a relaxed mood despite all the hustle and bustle in the club, she could easily imagine them reclining against a fountain in the summer, playing songs for any person passing by. It was a bittersweet memory, thinking back to such a gentle time in her life.

Not wanting to dwell in the past and feeling bold in her excitement, she leaned against him once more, closing her eyes. _‘This isn’t so bad.’_ she thought sitting there. Making sure he was really asleep, Frisk quickly glanced up to his face. _‘Did you really mean it? The flowers? Do you even know what Asters are for?’_ she wondered. Frisk decided it didn’t matter. She knew how she felt.

“Hey Sans, we’re back. Wake up.” Frisk gently said, giving him a little shake. 

“Say what now!” he sputtered, jolting upright.

“What now.” Frisk responded with a mischievous grin. Sans looked at Frisk, his brain processing the scene. _‘Oh yea. The car.’_ He sat back to collect himself. “Is that how you normally wake a guy up?” he asked, a little embarrassed. 

Pulling on his arm and laughing Frisk said, “Come on sleepyhead. I promised dinner.” 

Sans didn’t mind sitting on the floor again, but Frisk wouldn’t hear a word of protest, apologizing several times for not having a better seat. He was convinced she was using magic with how quickly she whisked her hair up into a bun with only a couple of pins. Frisk happily hummed a song he didn’t recognize as she chopped up vegetables into the boiling water.

With the smell of herbs filling the air and the sun casting its final rays of golden light into the studio, Sans looked around her small space, hoping to glean any sort of knowledge. There wasn’t much she had done with the apartment, granted it was already furnished, but there was so little of Frisk in it. Everything was tucked away and clean, giving no hints to her existence. It was something he hadn't noticed before. Properly analyzing the place, the only objects of note were the solid black urn on a shelf and the bouquet in a cup he’d brought. Even her bedding was white, blending into the wall. She was a mystery he wanted to solve. It wasn't going to happen simply by staring at her.

Frisk wasn’t sure what she wanted to achieve with all this. She felt a little embarrassed having Sans sit on the floor, once again not thinking things through. It was nice having him around, though. He was an easy guest, not saying much as she cooked and mostly ignored him. Despite the nap back to the apartment, she knew he was still tired. Despite her curiosity as to what he actually did, it wasn’t a conversation she was eager to pursue. The mere mention of protection fees left a bitter taste in her mouth. Whilst she was no longer on the giving end, she was working for the people who had caused her so much stress in the past. With a small sigh, Frisk let that line of thinking go. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now. 

Besides, today had been so much fun she didn’t want to ruin it by getting depressed. _‘Let’s see, I need to get the record player, that can be done after practice. Maybe I should make something with the strawberries? A cake, perhaps? Should I bring cake to practice? I’ll ask tomorrow. What about-’_

"I'm falling for you, darling." 

When his words finally registered as being said, she turned to him, eyes wide in confusion. He stood up, coming towards her. Her breath caught in her throat. 

"And if I'm being honest, I've been thinking about you since the day we met." 

He was so close to her, his hand tracing the outline of her cheek. "I've been thinking about you too." she murmured softly. 

A hand snaked around her waist, pulling her close. 

"I don't want to lose you." his voice barely above a whisper.

Frisk wrapped an arm around him, pulling Sans down to her. 

She brought her other hand to cup his cheek, tilting her face up to his.

"Remember when you said you wouldn't let me fall?" Her voice was small, almost pleading.

"Yea." How could he forget? He didn’t want her to be afraid.

"Do you mean it?" She gazed at him evenly.

"Every word." was his short response, closing the short distance between them. His fingers intertwined with her hair, releasing it from the pins. He thought it looked so pretty down.

"I won't let you fall either." she promised, brushing her lips against his cheek.

He buried his face into her neck and hair, tightening his embrace.

She held him as tightly as she could, not daring to breathe, afraid any tiny movement would end the moment. 

She didn't want to let go.


	11. Me and You Alone/ Plot to Draw First Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find our heroine questioning the motives of the love interest. The love interest finds himself questioning why her words are so bothersome. The plan to take down a villainous lady is laid bare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations! I'm taking classes this summer because I am one term away from my associates *happy dance* And I'm taking five classes and working*sad dance* So chapters are going to be a little slow coming out- for now. I'm trying to get ahead whilst I still can and all my free time is spent writing. This is the only way I'm staying sane. I'm cashier at a store which shut down once and would very much like for it to do so again. Cases are rising in my town and legit, a bartender my co-worker knows, came in bragging about not wearing a gloves or a mask at her job. She's serving people drinks without PPE. We've had two corporate emails come out because people at other store locations aren't wearing their PPE either. We have more access to it then some hospitals and people are flaunting the rules. At this point, I wish we would close down again. As it stands, our product shipments are barely fulfilling what we need and the Karens are becoming bolder. In general, I feel like people are acting meaner and certainly messier in stores. Holy cow, most of my shifts are either babysitting grown adults who can't read hair dye boxes or cleaning up after them /endrant The story is at a point where I need to be(rather want to be) a bit more thoughtful about what I'm writing, so the whole process is going to be slower anyways. Anyways! I hope everyone enjoys!  
> \+ Who wants to start a petition with me for Rico Nasty to make a screamo album? After listening to Rage, it needs to happen. She's so aggressive in her music, it would be amazing. Or at least do something similar to Zheani's Dirtbike and Dirt on the Name of Steven. Like screamo rapping 10/10.

~------~------~------~

One hand was tangled in her hair, the other wrapped as tightly around her as he dared. She clung to him, never wanting to let go. “This is real? You really mean it?” Frisk asked, her voice barely audible. She could face living in the city, even moving through it’s underworld, if he was with her. This wasn’t something she had ever expected to happen but with her emotions laid bare, she didn’t want to let him go. 

“It’s real, darlin’.” he muttered, keeping her locked in his arms. There was nothing more he wanted than Frisk. She was a breath of fresh air in his life, separate from all the gruesomeness, all the blood and dust, and pain. "I don't want to let you go." 

Carefully untangling herself from his arms just enough so she could look up at him, Frisk asked softly, "So what does this mean? For us?" 

"I want you." 

"I know that." she murmured, her cheeks feeling hot. "I mean, what in the grander scheme of things, what does this mean for us?" If only she had girl friends to talk too! Frisk’s dating experience was severely lacking any meaningful experience to draw from, and she couldn't quite bring herself to say _"Am I your girl now? Can I call you my man?"_. Regardless of her inability to fully voice her emotions, her joy knew no bounds as they stood together, holding one another. 

For Sans, his joy was tempered by uneasiness. What anyone would do if it was ever made known how much she meant to him, what his brothers might do if they ever found out, were things he had to consider. Frisk was a part of his world but he didn't want her to share in the consequences. “I don’t mean to make it sound like I don’t, uhm, don’t think I…” He was fumbling all over his words. “Shit, Frisk I don’t want any trouble ova’ this. I don’t want anyone to know about us.” 

His words hit her like a train, her heart skipped a beat. “Wait, what.. what do you mean?” She heard that line before from other men. A creeping paranoia rose up that he wanted their relationship kept a secret because he viewed her as nothing more than fling. Especially with the belly dancing, more men than she could count had the wrong idea about what she actually did.

“I know you don’t have to be told how dangerous this all is but we have a reputation to maintain. I don’t want you to get into any trouble.” he explained, trying to clarify what he meant. Frisk didn’t look convinced. “Aren’t I already in trouble?” she asked with a joyless laugh, pulling back from him. "I’m no stranger to the underworld, Sans."

“You know what I mean, Frisk. This isn't like keepin' yer head low and dancing around.” Frisk felt a prick of anger. Her life had not been so simple as keeping her head low and he of all people should know that. “Being my girl comes with a whole new set of risks and it's easier if things are kept secret.” he explained, wanting desperately for her to understand. _‘Easier for you to not have to explain why you’re hanging around with a club dancer.’_ Frisk thought angrily. 

All the joy she felt quickly evaporated. “I have been dancing in speakeasies long before I met you. I know the risks.” she replied, trying not to snap at him. "And we both know secrets don’t stay that way forever." _‘I’m not a toy, Sans. You went sneaking through a mansion for secrets, you know it wouldn’t last.’_ Trying to control the hurt she felt, Frisk asked, "Do you even really want me?" 

Sans went to reach for Frisk. “I want you, you know I do.”

“You just don't want anyone else to know you want me.” she said, stepping back from him. 

“Yes. I mean no! Dammit Frisk. It’s not that simple. I can’t risk my brothers finding out and if word ever got around every dumb thug would tryin’ to get at you to get at me.” 

“Dumb thugs try to get at me anyways. We shouldn’t do this if it has to be kept hidden even from your brothers. ” She could’ve cut him with a knife and it would’ve had the same effect. “If you’re worried about what others will think or do, then mayhaps we shouldn’t do this.” Frisk reiterated firmly, bitterness creeping into her voice. “I don’t want to play pretend because of _‘what ifs’_ and _‘maybes’_.” Her eyes misted over but she was determined not to cry in front of him. He wanted to reach out for her and bring her close once more. "Frisk, there's a reason why most gangsters don't like gettin' their molls involved. You’ve seen firsthand what happens.” 

“Most girls aren't already spies for the gang."

Frisk stared at the wall behind him and Sans looked to the floor. She didn’t watch Sans leave. She couldn’t. She wished he would’ve said something, anything to her. Frisk understood why he would want to keep their relationship secret- if she was a regular girl. She had danced in speakeasies all her life and now acted as a spy for the brothers, not wanting to tell anyone about their relationship appeared like an excuse to not commit to her. She was too smart to fall for the excuses and it was not the first time a guy thought he could get with her in exchange for some nice words. She was in danger regardless of her relationship status. “I know better.” she muttered slowly stirring the soup. With a heavy sigh, she turned the stove top off and crawled into bed. 

~------~------~

"The Hell do you want?" Sans snapped when he saw Papyrus, waiting on the front porch. "What were you doing with the human?" Papyrus asked, unfazed. 

"What makes you think I was with her?" grumbled Sans, pushing past him. _‘I do not need this right now.’_ Frisk’s word echoed back in his head _“Then maybe we shouldn’t do this if it has to be kept hidden even from your brothers.”_ It bothered Sans more than he cared to admit and was not something he wanted to think about. He didn’t _have_ to hide anything from. She wasn’t off limits, there had been no conversation stating that. Not implicitly stated, at least. 

Papyrus rolled his eyes saying, “I don’t really care about who you pass your time with-”

“It’s not like that!” Sans yelled. _‘It’s not like anything.’_ Over before it even began. _‘What was she so upset about?’_ Papyrus held up his hands. “I don’t care. Wings isn’t back yet but on _my_ end, we have rather exciting news.” 

Wanting to take his mind off of her, Sans muttered, “Well don’t let me stop you. What happened?” A wicked grin spread across Papyrus’ face. “Everything went according to plan. Is the club secure?” Sans followed him inside the house. A headache started to press in and sleep was all he wanted. _‘Maybe if I explain it better to her later. She has to understand.’_

“It’s as good as it’ll get.” remarked Sans. 

“Fantastic, as soon as Wings returns, we’ll get down to business.” 

Sans crashed onto the couch, kicking his feet and staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t aware of Gaster having to be anywhere today, or at least nothing had been said to him. _‘Once again the mastermind runs off without tellin’ anyone.’_ He thought bitterly, pushing off his shoes. The world spun as he rested his head against the couch. _‘First fight as a couple and we ain’t even together. Fuckin’ fantastic.’_

“Late night coffee?” asked Papyrus, offering him a cup. 

Feeling guilty about snapping at Papyrus, Sans took the cup. “Thanks.” 

“Should we expect trouble with Ben’s club?” queried Papyrus. 

“It’s Ben so yes. He’s finally nailing stuff down, literally, but there isn’t much in the way of security. We’ll need people in the back again. Say what’s up with the new brew from Grillby?” replied Sans, sitting up. Whilst he wanted something to stop his head from pounding, the coffee was warm and comforting. Frisk’s face flashed in his mind. _‘Don’t think about her. Nothing can be done about it now.’_ She was all he wanted to think about, dancing across his mind, out of reach more than ever before. 

“It weakens people.” Papyrus said proudly, as if it was a momentous announcement. 

With a scoff Sans said, “Well yea, that’s what happens when you drink too much.” 

“No, I mean it physically weakens people and their magic.” 

It took Sans a moment to process what that meant. “How weak? Are we talkin’ can’t use it all or what?” He sat forward, eager to hear more.

“Completely debilitated with one cup. It took a few hours for me to even summon a shield.” explained Papyrus. Sans stared at him with wide eyes, barely believing it. No wonder Gaster had been so patient with it. “Chara won’t be able to do a thing.” 

“No, she won’t.” said Gaster, appearing in the living room. “Everything is settled for the party?” 

“The club is ready as it’ll ever be. Expect the usual from Ben.” 

“Grillby has enough bottles ready to go.” 

Sitting back into a chair, Gaster said, “Perfect. As far as the guest list goes, it’s mostly known members from her gang.” 

Papyrus and Sans looked to each other in confusion, then back to Gaster, with Sans speaking first. “We’re attacking? Now?” he asked incredulously. From the look on Papyrus’ face, this was the first he heard of it too. _‘At least Wings was courteous enough to leave us both out.’_

“Think of this as a warning. If she backs off, then we shan’t pursue her. There isn’t anyone to take her place and I don’t trust Asriel to not push his father into making a move on _us_. Most likely Chara will be enraged and lash out. At that point, we shall strike against her and deal with the fallout later.” explained Gaster appearing to be perfectly content. 

“Why are we only being told this now? I assumed this event was for information only.” said Sans testily. Of all the things to keep his brothers in the dark about, bloodying a rival gang in such a bold move was not one them. “Preparation. If Grillby was wrong about the formulation then yes, this would’ve strictly been for information. However, since the formula works as intended, we can deal her a first pernicious blow.” Gaster explained. The only issue Sans could see with his brother’s plan was the performers. “What’re we doin’ about the entertainment? That’s a pretty big liability.” Simply having Frisk there raised Sans’ hackles, having an all out fight with her there was downright nerve wracking. 

Gaster nodded in agreement. “They are but first Papyrus tell me of the testing.”

Sitting forward and upright, eager to tell fully of results, Papyrus said, “It went exactly as Grillby said. For humans, they become near incapacitated within a bottle. I can’t imagine the results varying in someone with magic. I noticed effects in them around one cup, that’s also when my own magic was impacted. At the one cup mark, movements in the humans are sluggish and from there, movements further diminish with every sip. For monsters, our magic is severely reduced in one cup, I imagine anything further after that there would be zero access to it. It took around two hours to summon a small shield. Our movements don’t become limited until a bottle in. So, like what Grillby said, humans are impacted more than us.” Papyrus sat back, quite pleased with his findings. Their other human subordinates hadn’t been so happy with the effects but that hardly mattered. They had a way to weaken all their enemies. 

Gaster crossed his arms and sat back into the chair, digesting it all. The issue he had was how long it took to affect monsters and Grillby had already stated there was nothing to be done about it. Chara employed mostly human thugs so on that end, they were covered. Gaster heard enough rumors to assume she had at least one monster directly under her though the specifics of her hierarchy weren’t known. It wouldn’t be hard to get the alcohol into circulation but they had to strike before it’s true nature was realized. Without any explanation to it, the brew appeared to be nothing more than exceptionally potent alcohol. After the party, Gaster intended to speak to Asriel and move forward with a date to release it, mayhaps starting with a watered down version first to give it a chance to gain popularity. Though it would have to released before the party for it gain enough popularity to be widely consumed, crates would have to be released near Chara’s territory to ensure her people were affected by it- 

“Wings, you fallin’ asleep?” came Sans’ voice, pulling Gaster out of his thoughts. 

“Hm? Ah, no. What were you saying?” 

“Is Asriel attending or sending an envoy?” asked Papyrus. He was certain no matter who attended, there would be a clear picture of who was leading the charge against Chara but if a certain someone was sent, it was Sans’ behavior he was concerned with. Whatever happened between him and Frisk was intriguing to say the least but fraternizing with her was bound to cause later issues. “Asriel has a prior engagement. Muffett will be attending in an observatory role.” Sans and Papyrus groaned. The little spider monster had a knack for stirring up trouble where none was to be found and more importantly, despite her inability to teleport, was notoriously hard to catch, leaving her little minions everywhere. On top of corpse disposal, they’d have to hire an exterminator for all the damn spiders. 

Not forgetting Sans’ question about the performers, Gaster continued, “As for the performers, we’ll reduce it down to three acts, ending it after Frisk’s performance. Grillby’s formula will be sent out at that point. Between Muffett’s spiders, our own spies, and Miss Frisk’s magic, we should be able to get enough information before attacking. After each act, the groups will be leaving the club so Miss Frisk will be the only one backstage. I expect if enough drink the alcohol, it won’t be much of a fight.” 

With a plan in place all it was now a matter of waiting until the night of the event. Sans dismissed himself to his room, collapsing on the bed. There was nothing to do tomorrow. 

Her practice for the show shouldn’t take all day. 

_“Then maybe we shouldn’t do this…”_

He could go see her. 

_“... kept hidden even from your brothers.”_

Not wanting to think why her words haunted him so, Sans gave into sleep.

~------~------~------~


	12. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine contemplates her old plan of escape and explores the city.

~------~------~------~

Rather than be miserable all day, Frisk let go with the music during practice. She was quite happy traveling to the club completely unescorted, even taking her own taxi. Shimming across the stage, she imagined with every arm undulation of tossing her worries away. _‘He’s being a big palooka.’_ Spinning to the left with her veil flowing behind her, Frisk imagined him in the crowd. _‘I don’t know why he thinks we could ever keep it secret. How would he explain running off to see me? How often does he actually go out? Ugh, I don’t want to know.’_ The veil whipped above her head. _‘Probably thinks I'm easy to get with because I'm a club dancer.’_ She rolled her body before settling on a stomach roll. _‘ "_ I don’t want you to get hurt." _Oh really? He’s forgetting how I even met him.’_ The song changed with the rapid beat of the drum and she flowed from belly rolls into a body roll before settling into a fast knee shimmy. _‘All I do is dance around? Does he have any idea how many people think dancers are easy targets? How many fights have I had to defend myself in? I’ve had so many men think they can just grab me, I know how to knock someone’s lights out!’_ Raising her arms, as if she was embracing the non-existent audience, she spun backwards, lowering into a backbend, throwing the veil in front of her. _‘Hide our relationship.. Pfft. He can’t hide anything. Came all storming up just because I was talking with the band. Who does he think he’s fooling? Probably doesn't want anyone to know he's interested in a lowly little dancer.’_ With her hands twisting up above her, Frisk raised up on her hips before coming into a standing position. She swung her arms down, trailing the veil down across her body. _‘I know excuses when I hear them and I’ve heard enough girls cry about getting fooled by their fellas. For crying out loud, I’m dancing on a stage, there’s no hiding me away.’_

The song ended and Frisk didn’t feel much better. She wanted to talk to Sans, to gain some sort of insight but experience had taught her to let it go. She witnessed too many girls getting their hearts broken by some smooth talking wanna-be sheik to fall for something like _‘I want to keep you safe.’_ She was not a starry eyed little girl looking to be saved. 

With a sniff, Frisk went to the dressing room to change out her silk costume. She made it a point to wear her blue crepe dress again, not wanting to keep it attached to the memory of him. She peeked out cautiously into the main hall from the dressing room. No sign of any of the brothers but the main hall looked slightly strange. Ben did have them nailing stuff down but everything was so oddly spaced. Glancing down at the directions to the record shop Suta had given her the day prior, Frisk realized she had no idea where any of the streets were. Hoping for some clarification, she skipped up to him. “Hallo Suta.”

“Hey Frisk. What's up?” Suta asked, packing up his Oud. 

“So I was planning on going to the record shop but um, I have no idea where any of these streets are.” she replied. 

“Mind if I come with you then?” 

She paused, contemplating. Company wasn’t really desired but she needed directions or at least a point in the right direction. As far as she knew, Sans was not at the club and Frisk couldn’t imagine him meandering through the city. “I wouldn’t mind. I’m leaving now but if you’re not ready I can wait.” she replied. 

“No, I’m all set.” With the instruments safely stored away, the pair set out. 

The record shop turned out to be a little harder to find than what Frisk had expected and she was happy for Suta’s company. Conversation was pleasant enough as he guided her through the streets, telling her which ones were the safest and the ones to be avoided. Even in such a ritzy looking neighborhood, there were many places it would be best for her not to go. They turned off the main street, heading for an older neighborhood, where the streets weren’t lined with fancy lamp posts or potted plants. Several side streets and many minutes later, they arrived at a small business front, with only a small sign in the window to indicate they were open. Frisk stared in awe at what it contained. With top to bottom shelves of nothing but records and plenty of record players to pick from, even older styled gramophones, she felt like a child in a confectionery shop. “Little Egypt danced to this one.” Suta said, pulling out a record for her. 

“Really, which Little Egypt?” Frisk asked with a laugh. 

“Ever hear of Badia Masabni? In Egypt?” 

“Is she a dancer?”

“Nightclub owner. The music at her clubs is amazing. This band sounds pretty similar to what she plays.” 

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been there.” She wanted to ask how he went from Egypt to here but was distracted as another record was shown to her. 

Following her guide's directions, Frisk left, quite pleased, with three records and a small record player and radio combination. “Is it heavy?” she asked, eyeing him carefully. The case was a handy suitcase style so there was a handle in which to lift it but the bulk of the case worried her. She’d planned on getting a taxi regardless given how far she lived and didn’t want Suta to struggle unnecessarily. 

“Nah, it’s fine. I know of a little deli nearby if you want some lunch. It’ll be my treat. ” he replied. 

“Lead the way.” Frisk replied with no hesitation. As they walked and chatted, Frisk felt a small prick of guilt, thinking of Sans. _‘You don’t owe him a thing.’_ she reasoned. Pushing thoughts of him aside, she focused on Suta. “We’re planning on switching clubs at some point with the way Ben runs things. I think he likes all the fighting.” Suta said with a laugh. 

“Where would you go?” Frisk asked, quite curious. 

“I was thinkin’ of hopping town. This city has a bunch of beef going on and I really miss all the sunshine on the West coast.” 

“That far?”

“Yup. I’m certain you’re aware of what goes on ‘round here.” he remarked. Frisk felt a little uncomfortable unable deny it. “This place is rotting out and it’s only a matta’ of time before we get shot up at a club.” He sounded more than a little bitter and it was a feeling Frisk knew only too well. 

“When do you plan on leaving?” asked Frisk.

“Next Spring. Ben’s a little jingle-brained- ah, here it is- but the pays good.” The small delicatessen, like the record shop, was several side roads off the main street, nestled next to an auto repair garage and a meat market. If Suta hadn’t pointed it out, Frisk would’ve walked right by it. 

The deli was quite small with only a few tables for patrons. Scouring through the menu for the cheapest sandwich she could find, Frisk settled on a basic egg sandwich. Much to her delight, there was a small sitting section in the back that doubled as a garden for the deli. A few chickens clucked at the intruders, eyeing them suspiciously. "I hope they aren't too offended." laughed Frisk, eating her sandwich. Swinging her feet happily as she ate, she wondered what other hidden gems the city held. 

“How do you know the Skeleton Brothers?” Suta asked suddenly. 

“Ah, it...it’s a bit of a long story.” Frisk murmured, staring at the blooming flowers. _‘I suppose it was inevitable someone would get curious. Oh jeez, I hope he doesn’t ask about Sans.’_

“You’re not in trouble, are you?” Letting out a helpless laugh, Frisk looked over at Suta. “No, not really.” She tried to sound carefree about it but Suta’s look indicated otherwise.

"Not really?"

"Yep." She didn't want to clarify what she meant but he seemed determined to figure it out. "Are you with one of them?" Trying not to spit her food out between laughing, choking, and Suta asking, "Are you okay?", Frisk managed to cough out, "Oh no, most certainly no." 

"Okay or with one of them?"

"Both. " she said with a cough. _'Don't ask questions, I want to forget my heartache.'_ Giving her a quick pat on the back, Suta pressed, “Then why did you leave with one of 'em?” Part of her wanted to be rude and tell him to mind his business. The other half wanted to tell him everything that happened and she would very much like to be pointed in the best direction in which she should start running, please and thank you. Figuring something halfway between a lie and the truth would work, Frisk explained, “I really am a dancer and...I also happen to spy for them.” At one whole event but he didn’t know how short her employment with them truly was. 

Whatever he was expecting, this didn’t appear to shock him. “Figured it was somethin’ like that. Don’t.. don’t go gettin’ yourself too mixed up with them.” In a low voice, he leaned in and whispered, “You can leave us with next year, if you need to. There’s better opportunities elsewhere for dancers. I know belly dancing isn’t that big here so you stand out but I have connections on the west coast.” As desperately as Frisk wanted to leave the city, leaving with people she barely knew did not sound appealing, even if getting jobs with a band would be easier. “I’ll think about it.” Frisk replied with a smile. Suta was nice on the surface 

Under the watchful gaze of the hens, who moved together, clucking out their opinions of the two strange humans in their garden, Suta and Frisk finished their lunch and bid each other goodbye until next practice. As summer was approaching early, the afternoon sun glared down at all who dared to leave the shelter of the buildings. Wanting to be outside for a moment longer despite the heat, Frisk chose to walk part of the way home. _'Opposite end of the country would be nice, along with a nice sandy beach.'_ With a little huff, Frisk set the record player down and to hail a taxi. Thinking of sandy beaches could wait, this heat was killing her. 

The record player was set in a corner of the studio, next to the mirror wall with her beloved records stacked against it. If this home was truly her own, she’d buy a proper little shelf for it. Instead of playing the records straight away, Frisk turned on the radio, tuning to the station she and her grandmother used to listen to. Laying on the floor, staring out the window at the sky, Frisk wondered if it would be better if she ran away now. Packed up what little she had and disappeared onto a train to anywhere. And then what? Run out of money with nowhere to go, that's what. Rubbing her face, Frisk sighed. "Good things come to those who wait. Just a little while longer." she muttered. Her mind wandered to Sans and she willed her heart to harden. Did she really want to get stuck in this city, dating someone who was contributing to the crime and corruption? The answer was a resounding no. Was Sans what she expected of a hardened gangster? Also no. Did he sound like every man who thought it would be great fun trying to get with the little belly dancer? Yes, and she was more angry about that than him patronizing her on the dangers of being a gangster. 

Raising her hands in front of her, Frisk imagined a pink bubble between them. The soft lines of it appeared, expanding out to encase her hands. “Four, five, six…” she imagined it stretching down her arms, slowly moving it to her shoulders. “Twenty two, twenty thre- ah!” With a sharp spike of pain in her head, Frisk winced, losing her concentration. The pink bubble faded into nothingness. “At least it’s bigger than before.” Listening to music made it easier to focus on the shield, trying to maintain it remained difficult. 

Rolling onto her stomach, she grabbed the records, analyzing their songs. Suta’s band played mostly originals so she couldn’t substitute for their set. Deciding on the one he said was similar to what was played in Egypt, Frisk put the record on, letting the music carry her away.

~------~------~

It was a minor ambush of no more than ten men, with enough guns between them for twice their own numbers. Sans and the small group of dog monsters he brought with him, who quickly picked up on the opposing group before the trap could be sprung, made short work of the failed assassins. The absolute stupidity and boldness of Chara’s men never ceased to amaze him. Ripping open the shirt of a very dead thug, revealed the branded flesh beneath. "Well no fuckin' surprise here." They had caught the group whilst patrolling one of the back alleys near the club, just in case of an event like this. “They knew to expect us.” muttered Sans. "Rest of the alley is all clear, boss." reported one of the dogs. Did Chara suspect the party to be a trap? Was she having the club watched? On the border of both gangs, Ben claimed neither the Dreemurrs nor the Skeleton Brothers as patrons, and often held events like the one to come, which had been pre-planned before Gaster intervened. Most of her goons appeared to operate almost independently of her but with a hunkered in group so close to the club, there had to be something more. The brothers had already floated the idea Asriel was trying to weaken them by attacking Chara, could it be he and Chara were actually working together to take Sans and his brothers down? Realistically she could be paranoid about an attack since it was some of her more vocal and active supporters going to a club on the border of two enemies territory. Then why even allow them to go in the first place? Shaking his head, Sans would talk it out with Gaster and Papyrus. By Sans' logic it all came around to Asriel playing both sides against each other, it was just a matter of who wised up first. “Let’s head back. Gaster needs to know about this.” With a sinking feeling, Sans’ group left the alley and dead men behind.

~------~------~------~


	13. Not an actual chapter, just interesting related things.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I like doing research for the story in an attempt to stay a little historically accurate(not going to lie there's things I smudge a little!) and these are some videos I found on belly dance, dance, and just some neat videos in general.

~------~------~-------~

When doing research on the 1920s and specifically the entertainment side of things, I found [these](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZo4imTt4Og) [two](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PsVQ9e8nWx0) videos on Vaudeville acts. The animal acts are incredibly depressing to watch. Especially the baby elephant. Someone in the comments pointed out that was [Topsey](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Topsy_%28elephant%29#Death) but I'm not entirely sure, the slide card said 'Jumbo'. Either way, big sad and the story of Topsey is a travesty. The chair lady in the second video was weird. I don't understand *insert don't-understand-dance sequence*. There are many feels with one of the songs used in the second video. Mostly at the lyrics _"If you don't your Uncle Sammy then go back to your home o'er the seas."_ I'm half Native American and my European side is pretty blended so at most I'd move to Astoria, Oregon. I'm already 7 seven hours from there so like no. That's not a legitimate argument. 

Here is a short video briefly going over the history of [Vaudeville](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwK1VR50drk).

Whilst [Alice Barker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bktozJWbLQg) was active in the 30s and 40s, I think this video is pretty cool. You can see the influence [Josephine Baker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jEH6eDpjgRw) and her banana dance had on their dance. 

Here is a video of [belly dancer from the 1900](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lrmhifthuuk), though I'm not super impressed with it. I don't know if this is the original [Fatima at the world fair](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JB62VEWLSzE) or not, but her hip shimmies are pretty weak compared to how they're done now.

This video starring[ Chimpanzees](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a9NwEQHvhCY) is distressing to say the least. I really don't like seeing animals in old movies because I just know what was going behind closed doors and it's heartbreaking.

For simple entertainment, here is a [Middle Eastern style cover of Milkshake by Robyn Adele Anderson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DN84YcPgzY0). 

This is a[ highly repetitive routine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ziOAYNqRjIY) so I'm not sure if the video is on loop. You really only need to watch about a 1 minute to get the full routine. Belly dance and layering has certainly come a long ways.

Not related to belly dancing, this is the [short film](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNAHcMMOHE8) which inspired Smashing Pumpkins music video for Tonight, Tonight. 

Again, not belly dance related, here is Alice Guy's [Winter, Snow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MRDonk_vMps) dance and [Serpentine dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgbNYmQKWGk). I love the veil work in the Serpentine dance, it's hard to master. I was playing around with a little cheapo veil my younger sibling bought for an All Hallows' Eve costume, it's ain't easy to look that nice. 

In this [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Z0g_cw6kFk) you can see some elements of American Tribal Style. 

This intensity of her umis are intense, like I can not get my hips to move as fluidly as hers and umis come pretty naturally to me. I don't know if this was the [world fair Little Egypt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LObvE8C5dGI) or not(there were so many going by that name!) but her energy is similar to modern Egyptian style dancers. Speaking of, here is a video where a woman recreated old school [Egyptian belly dance.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZaWu-_J3lu0) ATS really takes a lot of inspiration from the vintage styles. I'm not even going to pretend Frisk dances anything close to how it actually was. For Frisk's style think of [Alia Mohamed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4INIYn5Jcqc).

I think [this was part of a larger film](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kvi6wZtO8LY). I cringed so hard I can't bear to find the rest of the film. The pain, the physical pain. 

[This video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgZ9TL1k1c4) is interesting, I love the veil work and was surprised to women in kimonos dancing. 

Anywho, that's all for now. The actual chapter 13 is still being worked on and hopefully I'll have it out in the next couple of weeks- sorry for the long wait!


	14. To Draw First Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find our heroine in a dangerous web of deceit and lies, growing her magic and becoming more entangled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guuuuuuuuuuuuuys, my art tablet arrived. It's here. I'm so excited! You know what this means? I'm totally whipping up some doodles for this! I'm not too bad with watercolors but trying to photograph art and make it look relatively nice is a skill I sorely lack. Anyways, enjoy the chapter!

~------~------~------~

It was late in the afternoon when Frisk’s nerves got the best of her and she showed up almost a whole hour early. Not wanting to see Sans, her goal was to make a run for the dressing room and stay there until show time. Clouds had formed and the wind raised up, threatening a storm. As a shivering Frisk walked to the front of the restaurant, she pulled the coat tight around herself. The front of the restaurant was dark and she feared perhaps the door locked. With a small tug, she walked in, greeted by dim light and silence. It made sense for the restaurant section to be closed off but silence was uncomfortable. Frisk was worried she arrived a little too early until Ben boomed out, "Aye, Miss Dancer! Yer one of the first one to arrive. Nice job!" She jumped back in surprise before spotting him sitting on a bench near the entrance. 

"Oh goodness, I didn’t see you. Ah thank you." she replied, quickly heading for the club. 

_'He wasn't joking.'_ Despite the bright lights, the main hall was devoid of any life. _‘He said one of… but I don’t see anyone else. Talking about himself, perhaps?’_ With a shrug, Frisk headed for the dressing room.

She hadn’t heard from the brothers in the past two weeks, meaning either she was trusted enough to be left alone or something bigger was happening. Given what Sans had said about Chara, Frisk felt it safe to assume they had their hands full. With the unexpected dropping of the fourth and fifth act coupled with the lack of communication from her employers, something certainly had happened but she couldn’t figure out what. 

Carefully pulling the purple silk costume and veil out of her bag, she held them close, happy to wear the dress once more for a proper performance. If long gaps from the brothers were to be commonplace, she wanted to pick up a second job dancing elsewhere. With Suta’s help Frisk was certain she could find a job and perhaps even a place where she could make connections of her own. Setting the thought aside for later and with her costume on, Frisk shifted into stretching.

After a few minutes, she declared stretching complete and unable to focus on much, laid on the floor using the small case she kept her costume in as a head rest. Twisting her hands above her, doing small arm undulations, her mind wandered into what was supposed to happen after the performance. She hadn’t been told to stay after her routine and it had been made clear _all_ the performers were to leave immediately after their routine was completed. _‘This isn’t really how I want to see Sans again, anyways.’_ The dressing room door opened to the sound of laughter and chatter as the other two groups poured in.

She hadn’t interacted much with the other groups outside the occasional “Hello!” and “Goodbye!” during practice, and a simple wave was all she gave them now. Similar to herself, the other group quickly donned their costumes and make up before falling into small rehearsals. There was a small tap on the door as it was cracked open. “Five minutes for the first group!” was announced. In the midst of a flurry of nervous giggles and squealing, Frisk started into small practice steps of her own.

The first group Frisk knew to have broken away from a larger Vaudeville troupe. Having watched them at practice, she was impressed how well they mixed the Charleston with their original dance routines. Suta had said they were traveling along the club circuit and like his band planned on leaving next year, though for different reasons. Their act was becoming all too common on the East coast. 

As the time ticked down and the first group went onto the stage, Frisk once more went into stretches, wanting to stay limber for her act. She blocked out the big band jazz that filled the air as she rose into a standing position. Right arm lift up, turn to the left, pop hip up with each step. Sweeping her right arm down and back up, she tapped her feet in place, rolling her body with each step. 

"Hey you're really good. Like you’re always really good at practice. What izzat?" said one of the girls from the second group as she pranced up to Frisk.

It took Frisk a moment before she realized the question was directed herself. "Oh. Ahm, thank you. It's belly dancing." 

"I knew it! None of us were sure because we’ve never seen a belly dancer before but Mindy said she did once but I don’t think so. Me Grams talked about it! She saw a belly dancer at the world fair a way while back. They called it," the dancer burst into giggles trying to whisper out, "they… they called it coochie coochie dancing." Joining in on the giggles and thankful the make up blush hid the real one, Frisk said, "Oh goodness, no it's ah, it’s called belly dancing." She heard worse before but was surprised the girl brought up the World Fair, that was nearly 27 years ago. "Must've left quite impression your grandmother for her to tell you about i-"

"Yea it did! She says she had to drag Gramps home by his ear 'cause he wouldn't stop starin'!"

"I bet he's still embarrassed about it too." Frisk remarked. She had seen plenty of girlfriends turn beet red and glare angrily at their men when Frisk walked on the stage. The glares never lasted long with her magic, though at the time she chalked up the change in expression to the women enjoying the performance. 

"His face turns as red as a tomato every time it gets brought up! Oh and my name is Lily! Hey can you teach me how to do that?” she asked, turning a little red.

With a helpless laugh, since she wasn’t going to get out of the conservation any time soon, Frisk replied, “Nice to meet you Lily. I’m Frisk. What do you want me to teac-” Practically bouncing from one foot to the other, Lily excitedly whispered, “That thing where you turn your hips in a circle!” 

“It’s called an umi.” explained Frisk. “First, you have to stand like this.” Frisk lifted up her skirt to show Lily the proper knee position. “Keep your hips tucked so you don’t hurt you back and imagine you’re moving around a box, like so.” 

“Like this?” asked Lily. It was basic but with practice Frisk reasoned Lily could easily pick it up. “Perfect now go a little faster and imagine the box as a circle….yep just like that.” Lily beamed at Frisk. “You’re a good teacher, ever thought of teaching this ‘stead at dancin’ at clubs?” It was something she had never considered before. Never one to be egotistical, Frisk knew she had enough skill as a dancer to get jobs on her own but teaching was another matter entirely. “Oh jeez, thank you. I’m not that good and you picked it up fast enough. It’s an easy move to master.” 

With a wave of her hand, Lily said, “Nonsense! I think you’d be good at it." Turning back to face her group and shouting above the music, "Hey! Hey! Lookit this!" The girls burst into giggles at the sight of Lily doing umis. In a rush of frills and beads and the clacking of shoes, Frisk found herself surrounded by other women by the other women all wanting to learn how to belly dance too. She felt like a mother duck lining up her ducklings before showing them how to stand and rotate their hips properly. 

"Stand like this and rotate as if you were touching all sides of a box. Yep, that's correct." she said beamed at her budding students. 

The music for the first group ended and the first group, all huffing and puffing, came rushing back to the dressing room. "Alright ladies, hustle your bustles, c'mon!" Frisk knew they were to leave quickly after their performance but the first group looked a little unnerved. "Hey uh, good luck. Crowds tough tonight." said a dancer as she threw off her costume. As quickly as they arrived, the group departed leaving Frisk and the second group in silence. The other girls looked at each other nervously. The intermediary music started to play and Frisk quickly tiptoed up to the stage, peeking out through the curtain. The audience was not impressed. Turning on her heels, she went back to the dressing room. _'Oh boy the air is tense tonight.'_ Sans had warned her about the frequent fights and tonight's mood pointed towards one. The girls looked at her uneasily, before one spoke up, "Toss vegetables kinda tough or dodge a thrown chair tough?" 

"Be thankful if all they do is boo at us." replied Frisk. _'Really wish I went on first. I'm certain my magic could've relaxed the crowd.'_ With scowls running so deep in the faces in the audience, she wasn't sure if her magic would even effect them. Wanting to chatter, Lily once more repositioned herself next to Frisk. "So um, with moves like what izzit? Umi? You must be real popular with all the fellas dancin’ like that!"

She wanted to tell Lily the only reason she was popular with any guy is because all they saw was a low cut top and her dancing and assumed something else entirely. Inwardly Frisk cringed thinking of a certain someone. “I guess.” In the past two weeks she had avoided thinking about him and did her best to slink in and out of the practice in case _he_ was around. _‘Don’t go thinking about him now, it won’t do you any good.’_

“Ladies, get ready to go!” called one the dancers as the music faded to a close. Too late to back out now, the girls put on brave faces and pranced onto the stage. Frisk sat back in the corner. _'There is something really wrong tonight. Half those guys look like they witnessed their mother getting kicked down a flight of stairs!'_ She kept her fingers crossed for the second group. They were Ben’s in-house performers and likely used to such a dour attitude, though she still worried. Performing in front of a hard crowd was never fun. 

Frisk went to crack open the door so she could watch the dancers but jolted back as a little spider skittered over the door handle and out of sight. “And now there’s spiders. Fantastic.” she muttered flatly. She gave the door a good once over before opening it, just in case the spider was still around. The second group was doing well enough with another Charleston-style routine. As they shifted into the second song, Frisk closed the door to continue her practice. _‘A teacher, huh?’_ Watching herself move in the mirror, she tried to imagine a gaggle of students repeating her movements. The dusty streets of her family’s home country was where she had learned to dance, the thought of teaching it in a proper studio was almost amusing. _‘One’ll never learn the proper footwork if you don’t have to dodge pebbles in the road.’_ With a little twirl, Frisk decided to try a different type of practice. She held up her hands, imagining a bubble between them. A faint pink outline formed between her fingers. Rather than her usual tactic of trying to expand the shield, she focused on maintaining it. “Twenty-eight.. Twenty- nine…” A sharp pounding formed in her head, breaking her concentration and bubble. “Damn, almost had it.” Whilst she couldn’t make the shield last long, the color was more solid, so that had to mean it was stronger. With a little huff, Frisk sat down to wait her turn.

The room started to feel small as she waited and thankfully it was not long before the second act trotted back to the dressing room, quickly gathering their things. "Good luck!' Lily said, passing by Frisk. They looked as uneasy as the first group. Taking a steadying breath, Frisk stood by stage entrance, counting the seconds until she went on. Unlike the other groups, Suta and his band were to be situated behind her as she danced. He waved and smiled, spotting Frisk. She returned the wave and met him at the center of the stage. Though whispering wasn't needed, he said, "I have never seen people so upset at pretty girls dancing for 'em." 

"I know! I have no idea what's going on." she whispered back. As the group positioned themselves on the ground, Frisk went into one last round of stretches. _'Breath and smile, breath and smile. Don't forget,'_ The curtains drew apart and she quickly settled into position. _'To breath and smile.'_

As the riq and dumbek started the song, Frisk slowly twisted her hips into a taxeem, raising her hands above her head as if she was picking flowers from the air. She raised her right hip then sharply dropped it down, repeating the motion twice more. The beat rose in pace, Frisk spun to the right, stopping when her left hip faced the audience. She swept her arm up along her body, repeating the hip drops. With her arms back in place and the music fully in motion, Frisk broke into a basic Egyptian, walking forward with each hip twist. _'Think of something nice.'_ The Aster bouquet came to mind along with a sharp prick of pain. _'Wrong thing.'_

She spun with the music, before settling into a shimmy. _'Think of the song. Suta said it was for a girl he used to know. So something lovely.'_ As Frisk danced across the stage, she imagined herself at some faraway tavern, somewhere she'd never been before, like Egypt. Instead of gangsters, spies, and everything in between sitting in front of her, the scene was more romantic, like actual Sheiks and their entourage that she was performing for. _‘No, not a skeleton Sheik, stupid brain. Why am I thinking of him so much now?’_ Shifting her mind away from him, it was an amusing thought, getting lost in the desert only to find herself in a castle of some long forgotten kingdom. 

Second song, a bit faster than the first. Frisk liked this one. The fast pacing and heavy emphasis on the dumbek, it had to be written for a dancer. She could imagine a partner with this song, as she shimmied, extending her arms out. _'Imagine reaching over and plucking someone to stand up from their chair to dance with me.'_ Belly dancing was a solo dance and unlike ballet, there was no room for a partner. Still she pretended to reach out, almost pirouetting away, feeling like a tease. Her favorite part was bending back and weaving her arms through the air, giving her hair a little toss before uprighting herself. Hip dropped on the right, half turn, her arms sweeping up before settling back down, hip dropped on the left. Moving into an Egyptian knee shimmy, whilst sliding her hips side to side, Frisk quickly scanned over the crowd. Whatever was going on with the first two acts appeared to have passed as most now looked to be enjoying themselves. _'Okay, I have this.'_

With the start of the final song, Frisk whipped her veil from around her waist. Something about dancing with the veil made her feel so elegant. She had once seen a dancer sew two on the back of her choli so they flowed like wings with every turn. She was quite familiar with the song, having heard it before, the melody reminding her of a lost love. _‘I used to like this song.’_ she lamented. It felt too personal now and a sense of vulnerability fell over her. Frisk tossed the veil this way and that as she shimmied across the stage, enjoying the way the light hit the purple silk. The song made her feel alone on the stage. The world turned to blurs of colors as she spun with the veil trailing around her. _‘It’s like I was crying.’_ Slowly she steadied herself, keeping her balance in check. With a twist of her hips and flick of her wrist, the veil flowed around her. _‘I should probably talk with him.’_ She felt like crying thinking of Sans. Casting the silk above her head, Frisk gave a quick twirl, watching the silk glide through the air. _'I wonder where he's sitting.'_ she thought. There wasn't enough of a pause for her to look and part of Frisk was afraid he wasn't there. _‘Stupid boys, why do they have to say everything wrong?’_ The music ended as Frisk gave the veil one last spin before bowing. With the thunderous applause, her worries about the night were alleaved.

As the curtain drew to a close, Suta came up to Frisk clapping. "I knew you would nail it. Shame we're the last ones for the night. I think the crowd finally lightened up a bit."

"No..no kidding." she said, trying to steady her breath as she made her way back to the dressing room. Rather than immediately get ready to leave, Frisk laid on the ground feeling quite content. She had forgotten how exciting it was dancing in a club. With the rush of the applause ringing in her ears, she raised her arms, doing small undulations and wrist turns, forming small pink bubbles on the tips of her fingers. As Frisk willed it the bubbles grew larger and smaller, translucent and solid, before concentrating the energy into a faint shield that was almost the length of her. “I did it! I’m really doing it!” she exclaimed happily, marveling at the shield. _‘Oh I can’t wait to show him!’_

The elation disappeared as quickly as her shield with the first sound of gunshots. 

~------~------~

Muffet leaned against the railing of the upper level, patiently waiting for her little spiders to return. She arrived early, long before the brothers, to ensure her little spiders would have a chance to scatter into hiding places. They would likely clear out her little spiders after tonight but for now, she could gain all sorts of insights into the club, like the unknown crates hidden in the back room. The mild look of annoyance on the Gaster’s face as he arrived with the other two made it clear there were things he was hiding. Whilst Asriel hadn’t explicitly stated it, it was Muffet’s goal to finally gain some insight into the brother’s operations. 

With the pleasantries grumbled and mumbled out, she turned her attention back to the club. Gradually the ‘guests’ piled in, looking more attentive than usual. Gaster had let it drop about the ambush on Sans, subtly implying Asriel knew more than he let on. It wasn’t a lie. They had similar groups sneaking around their territory but weren’t about to let the brother’s know, it was hard enough keeping secrets from Asgore. The spiders carefully skittered around her, avoiding being spotted by the brothers. Whilst Muffet’s role was purely to make sure all of Chara’s supporters and little henchmen were killed, she did not want to sacrifice any more spiders than necessary. She didn’t like sharing the information but Asriel wanted the brother’s goodwill. 

_“First table on the left… all guns.”_

_“Few mentioned a sign.”_

_“One sits in the back, listening.”_

_“Grey suit at center table keeps looking up. Can’t see you. Knows someone is up here.”_

She reported each line from her spiders to Gaster, who simply nodded. The brothers didn’t have too many human henchmen but she assumed they must have mingled with the waiters given his blaise attitude. There were too many expecting the trap and waiting to spring their own. They were hidden enough on the upper level and the stairs leading up to were cordoned off, implying that there were no guests, still some were clearly suspicious. 

_“Letters from the hotel bore bad news.”_

_“She knows he moved.”_ Muffet let out a little huff. That had to mean Chara knew Asriel moved to a new place and tattled about it. Either Asriel let it slip to Chara or a spy was in the area. 

_“Wanders where others are.”_ The whisper gave her pause. _‘Others? Maybe there were supposed to be more in attendance?’_

The first act was one Muffet had seen before at another club. They were entertaining enough but rarely changed their routine. _‘They aren’t going to last long if they can’t mix it up a little.’_ she thought, stifling a yawn. 

_“Center table again, all have guns.”_

_“The three back right tables..all guns.”_

There were only twenty tables in total and at least five were packin’ heat. Chara had to have known this was a trap but why did she allow so many to come here? She had changed so much since leaving the Dreemurrs, this recklessness was not like her. “The center table and at least three tables on the right are all loaded.” she reported. 

“It’s to be expected.” was all Gaster said. 

She knew Asriel had sent her because the spiders were invaluable for gathering information, but Gaster’s attitude was infuriating. Like the men below, the brothers were waiting for something. To hide her glare, Muffet went back to watching the performance. _‘To be expected, really? Ugh, they should all shoot themselves and get it over with. What’s the point of being here if everything I say is disregarded?’_

_“Talk of crates on border.”_

_“Wondering if linked to other crates.”_

_“Chara isn’t happy.”_

Muffet kept those whisperings for herself. Many things were held in crates and she wondered what the brothers had stored in theirs. The little spider from the back room had yet to report it.

 _“Red suit said meeting on Tuesday. All there.”_ Now that was interesting. Red suit was easily spotted in the crowd, as he was the only dressed so gaudily. Muffet made a mental note to loot his body afterwards for anything else.

 _“Other said not so loud. Only a few know. Second leading meeting.”_ Second? Second in command, perhaps? She mulled over the information, deciding it would be easier to solve the mystery later.

The second group she knew to be Ben’s in-house group. They weren’t too bad given the turn-over rate. Cohesive enough to be entertaining. 

_“Magic from the dancer.”_

_“She dances magic.”_

_‘What?’_ Muffet perked up with the little whisper. Muffet narrowed her eyes, staring hard at each girl. She couldn’t detect anything unusual. There was one more act left and normally she would ask the spiders to clarify what they meant but with the brothers so close, if there was a human with magic nearby she most certainly did not want them to know. 

The second group vacated the stage as the curtain fell. The next round of spiders arrived, repeating earlier messages. The curtain raised for the final performer, a lone figure with the musicians sitting further back behind her. _‘At least the music is something different.’_ thought Muffet, resting her cheek against an arm. At first, it looked like nothing more than an interesting dance, with all the dancer’s twists and turns. _‘How pretty.’_ she thought, her mind felt like it was being filled with molasses. The dance was more risque than the other two performances despite the modesty of the long skirt. Her vision tunneled around the dancer, blocking out everything else. A relaxing warmth inched its way through her, slowly spreading up from her toes. She shushed the little spiders away, wanting to watch more. The song changed to a faster pace as the dancer spun. _‘Oh preeeetyyy.’_ Muffet slumped forward, letting her arms hang over the railing. She hummed along faintly with the music. 

The third song felt so sad. Was the dancer crying?

Was she crying?

The thoughts flitted away, leaving her mind blank.

The little spiders scratched frantically at her cheek, chirping loudly for Muffet’s attention. She brushed them away, barely acknowledging their presence. The purple veil memorized her, all five of her eyes following it’s movements. Up and down, across the stage, mixing with the long brown hair. It spun in front of the dancer, hiding her from Muffet’s view. _‘‘No, come back..’_ her thoughts moved like mud and she forgot them word as soon as they formed.

Muffet yelped up, slapping the spider away from her stinging cheek. 

_“Ambush! Alley! They’re coming!”_

_“Lots appearing!”_

_“WAKE UP!”_

Ignoring the pain in her face, Muffet looked around frantically. The audience was dead silent, all leaned forward enraptured. She whirled around to the brothers, seeing them in a similar state. Panic bubbled up as the spider repeatedly screeched their warning. “Hey! Snap outta it!” Muffet hissed frantically, waving her hands in front of their faces. “I said wake up!” she exclaimed, shaking Gaster. His eyes shot open wide as he lurched away from her. “There’s a group coming up the alley!” she rushed to explain, shaking both Papyrus and Sans. “Snap outta it!” 

“Howdya… what?” muttered Sans, not looking away from the stage. 

“Group! In! Alley!” snapped Muffet. 

Blinking through the fog in his mind, Papyrus asked, confusedly, “What happened?”

“There’s no time to explain, a group is coming up the alley, grab some men from the back and take care of it. Sans- hey Sans! Dammit.” Sans was still caught up in the magic, barely acknowledging his brother. Nearly tossing him out of the chair, Sans finally snapped out of it. “Get the others. We don’t have any time to waste.” ordered Gaster, rubbing his face, trying to recall the past few moments. 

“The Hell is goin’ on?” he exclaimed, finally coming to.

“Ambush in the alley, Papyrus has it. Get the rest from the back and we’ll deal with the ones in here.” 

_‘What happened indeed?’_ thought Gaster, trying to push out the fog of confusion that threatened to overtake him once more. Frisk had walked onto the stage and then all he could hear was the music. _‘She was not this powerful three months ago.’_ He hadn’t counted on her advancing so far as to affect everyone in the room. The lull of the music called out to him and it took everything in his willpower to avoid staring at the stage. Looking down at the audience below, Frisk’s magic held their attention a little too well as the alcohol was never delivered out. “Dammit.” he repeated once more. Time to do things the old fashioned way. There was no doubt they could easily deal with Chara’s men but having the alcohol sent out would’ve simplified the whole situation. _‘It’s too risky keeping her on the stage, we’re bound to be charmed again.’_ With her performance coming to an end they had a brief head start and could still land the first blow. He turned to Muffet, wanting to know how she broke away from Frisk’s magic and found her staring at the stage again, swaying slightly to the music. “Muffet?” In a dazed state, she managed to turn ever so slightly away from the stage. 

“Yea?” her response came out slurred and slow. Gaster whipped her away from the stage. She blinked as the world came back into focus. “Wha-?”

“Get ready. We’re attacking now.”

Sans cursed the whole situation, practically jumping the whole flight of stairs down to the main level. No one had even bothered to blink in his direction. With one hand raised to block his view of the stage, Sans headed straight for the back, pushing past the men posing as waiters. He’d wake them up next. The sound of fighting in the alley greeted him. The few remaining guards they had in the back room fidgeted nervously with their guns. “Get up front. We’re doin’ this now.” he commanded. All the bravado and excitement he felt dwindled away as he realized what happened. 

Frisk charmed everyone with her dancing.

Frisk was still here. 

_‘Shit shit shit!’_

~------~------~

Too scared to make a break for it and uncertain where the fighting had started from, Frisk hunkered down in a corner, tightly curling up, making herself as small as possible. This wasn’t the first club fight with guns that she had been part of and the old anxiety and fear demanded she hide. Frisk smashed her hands against her ears to block out the noise, trying to think of something- anything!- other than the horrible noises coming from the main hall. She attempted to summon a shield but in her anxiety, couldn’t focus beyond the popping noise of the guns. 

The curtain on the stage was down and she considered running to the side where Suta and his band were. At least then she wouldn’t be alone and closer to the front entrance. _‘It has to end. Eventually it’s going to end.’_ she repeated. Logically she knew it really would end and likely soon depending on how much spare ammunition was brought but that didn’t help when the dressing room crashed open. The man was bloodied, looking around the room wild eyed and panicked. 

Frisk clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle any noise. She didn’t see a gun but he did have a knife. _‘Please go away. Please go away!’_ she thought desperately, willing him to leave the room. The door to the stage was opened, the sounds of fighting and gunshots blared into the small room. 

“Fucking shit!” the man snapped as the door slammed shut. 

Unable to squish herself any more into the corner, Frisk glanced around hoping to spot anything that could be used as a weapon. The only thing she could reasonably think of was the suitcase containing her costume. She wasn’t sure how successful swinging her suitcase around would be but it was better than nothing. _‘My sentiments exactly.’_ she thought, agreeing with the man’s swearing as he paced about the room like a trapped animal. To leave would surely mean his death but staying didn’t present an opportunity to escape either. 

Frisk closed her eyes, imaging herself encased in a little bubble. _‘Focus on a bubble, focus on a bubble.’_

“Hey! Who’re you?” 

All the air sucked out of her and she could hear nothing but the sound of her heart frantically thumping in her chest. Answering his own question, the man continued on, “Wait a sec, your one of the dancers!” 

_‘Real genius, aren’t you?’_ was her wry, bitter thought. She tightened her grip on the suitcase until her knuckles turned white. “Who-who are y-you?” she stammered out, throwing the question back at him. “None yer business, girlie.” he growled, brandishing his knife, inching closer to her. 

Slowly Frisk stood up, keeping her tight grip on the suitcase. _‘Just a little closer…’_ She pressed herself against the wall, slowly inching her way to the stage door. _‘If I run fast enough, I’ll be okay.’_ Whether or not the man understood what she was doing, he charged, thrusting the knife forward. Be it blind luck or the adrenaline rushing through her, Frisk dodged the knife and swung her suitcase up with as much force as she could muster, catching him right on the chin. He stumbled back, crashing to the floor, dazed. Her lungs couldn’t take in enough air and she darted to the door before crashing down to the floor herself. The man had a hold on her ankle, slowly twisting up to his knees. With a scream Frisk kicked frantically at him, landing another hit against his head. “Ya little bitch!” he yelled, grabbing his head. 

Frisk scrambled upright and in a moment of terrible clarity, grabbed her suitcase, focusing all her concentration on it. The man struggled and stumbled to his feet, glaring her down, knife in hand. He lunged once more at Frisk as she swung the suitcase. The pink bubble around the suitcase popped as it hit the side of the man’s head, sending him flying. Keeping her eyes fixed on the ground, Frisk collapsed against the wall unable to breath. She dropped the suitcase to hold herself, shaking as if caught in a blizzard. With a short gasp of air, the tears rolled uncontrollable down her face. It felt so silly and pathetic but she worried how her make up looked. 

“Frisk!” The door nearly came off its hinges as Sans threw it open calling out for her. She could barely see him through the tears and rubbed frantically at her eyes as her emotions spilled over. Barely able to catch his breath, he ran up to her, looking her over. “You’re not hurt? You alright?” the words tumbling out faster than his mouth could move. 

Everything she had bottled up the past two weeks came spilling forth in an emotional ramble. “I- I-I can take care of myself and I don’t need you or anyone else coming to save me. I really like you and you have any idea how many dumb..dumb… _palookas_ like you think they can just come swooping in and take advantage me 'cause of the way I dance?! You don’t want anyone to know about us, really? I’ve heard that so many times before I know better than to fall for all the sweet talk! If you don’t want to be with me because I’m just a little speakeasy dancer then just tell me straight!” Between the dry heaving, trembling, and anxiety, her stomach knotted painfully up and Frisk felt sick. She didn’t try fighting Sans off as he embraced her, holding her as tight as he dared. 

“Darlin’ it was never like that. Don’t cry.” he said gently, brushing the tears off her face. “Please don’t cry, you’re safe.” Given what just happened the words tasted like a bitter lie. The fighting was coming to end and as predicted, even if the night didn’t go according to plan, he and his brothers were the clear victors. There was a lot in the main hall she didn’t need to see. “I’m taking you back home but I will be back later, alright?” 

“O-okay.”

Relief nearly swallowed Frisk up as her little studio formed around them. If Sans hadn’t been holding her, she was certain her knees would’ve buckled. With great reluctance she pulled back from him. “I promise I’ll be right back. There’s...things I need to finish.” he explained. 

Trying to smile through the remnants of the fear and anxiety, she replied, “I’ll be here.”

~------~------~------~


	15. Games with Muffet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine finds a little spider, sitting beside her, spinning secrets and plotting lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long to come out! Until the term ends in August, I'm going to be rather slow at getting the chapters done. Please have patience with me! Enjoy the chapter!

~------~------~------~

_'What to do, what to do?'_ hummed Muffet. They hadn't seen her but she had watched the whole altercation. She thought it was rather witty of the dancer to concentrate so much power into the suitcase. The man was clearly bigger than her and a regular punch, magical or no, might not have done as much. She snickered with malicious glee watching Sans run up and teleport her away. _‘Almost too late, hero. Your little dame had to save herself.’_

If this was the same girl Asriel had talked about, and Muffet was almost certain she was given how Sans treated her, then it added a whole new layer of intrigue to the situation. _'I wonder where they found her.’_ It was a one-in-a-million chance the little orphan Asgore plucked from the streets had magic, for another human to have appeared in the same city was almost impossible. Muffet wasn’t certain if Asriel knew about the dancer’s magic but she didn’t want to give him another reason to be interested in her. The woman had enough control to use her magic to fight back and the effect she had on the whole room whilst dancing was unnerving. Chara couldn’t even do that. Chara could also turn people inside out so Muffet reasoned humans must have different abilities like monsters. 

The red suited man did indeed have some papers of importance on him, citing an address and list of names that raised Muffet’s eyebrows. She decided to hold onto the little tidbit for a moment longer, mulling over whether it was worth personally investigating or not. With a hefty number of Chara's supporters taken out, they landed a successful blow against her and this was something Muffet was quite pleased to report back to Asriel. Now they would have to prepare for the inevitable blow back, though Muffet was certain that would mostly appear in the Skeleton Brothers territory and not their own. Nothing had been said about the dancer and given the brothers' mood, if confronted with the magical human Muffet was almost certain she would be another casualty of the party. She would hang it over them another time. Asgore might want to replace his wayward daughter someday. To top off her night, the spiders told her the crates in the back room were filled with bottles of unmarked alcohol. They had whispered part of the brother’s plan to her, and she would've liked to have seen the night unfold as intended, but with all the mess and chaos, she decided to help herself to a ‘consolation’ bottle. 

Wherever Sans had taken the dancer, he was gone but for a moment. Only a few of Chara's men remained alive and Gaster laid claim to them for questioning in a tone that made Muffet shudder. _‘So happy Asriel decided against Chara.’_ The alley attack concerned her. Chara was or at least someone under her, had enough foresight to attempt an ambush. If not for her spiders warning, Muffet wasn't sure how easy the night would've gone. The men were armed and organized well enough they were able to put up a fight even against the monsters magic and lasted longer than expected. This conundrum was also being pondered by the brothers as Muffet pranced up to them.

".... to increase the patrols and figure out where they're coming from." said Papyrus. 

"If we're spread out too thin it won't matter. There has to be a leak somewhere." replied Sans. 

Shaking his head, Gaster followed up with, "Either way, I believe this illustrates we're underestimating Chara's abilities.” He glanced over at the little spider monster. “Ah, Muffet. Any clues?” 

_‘Well guess it’s someone else’s problem now.’_ She held up the paper. “Some of the names are interesting.” 

Gaster took the paper, narrowing his eyes. “No one said anything about this?” 

“Nope.” Her spiders likely meant second in command and that could only mean Chara’s second in command. The brothers could figure that if they chose to investigate the information. She didn’t want to give them too much help as it was _their_ party after all. 

With nothing more to be said and no reason for her stick around, Muffet dismissed herself from their company. She had a new mission in mind.

~------~------~

The music sounded near blaring at three in the morning. Sans couldn’t tell if she had it up loud or if he was so tired everything sounded loud. Either way it did nothing to help the pounding in his head nor did it do much to muffle her crying. Frisk laid next to the record player in the corner, curled up in a little ball, covering her face. “Hey now, what’s wrong?” asked Sans, sitting beside her and carefully guiding her upright. The words barely formed past the tears as Frisk choked out, “I-I..I think I killed s-some one.” 

_‘Oh boy.’_ It was a conversation he was not prepared to have before the sun rose. “Frisk, darlin’,” he started as gently as he could muster, reaching over to turn off the record player. Truthfully, it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have at all given her tears and hoped sleep would soothe whatever she was feeling. “It’s 3 in the morning. I think you should be in bed right now.” 

“Wha-?” Her look of tear filled confusion pulled at his heartstrings but in his tiredness, going to bed sounded like it would solve all the problems. He was supposed to be home right now, thinking about what they found, what was learned, preparing for the inevitable meeting where they formed yet another plan of attack. Planning yet another conspiracy. _‘I shouldn’t have left her in the first place.’_ He’d deal with everything when he went back in the morning. Right now all he wanted to do was make sure she stopped crying. 

“Yep, it’s bedtime.” 

The realization of how late it was truly dawned on Frisk as she stared around confused. “Oh.” When Sans had left silence filled the small studio, letting the memory of moments prior replay over and over in her mind. It wasn’t the first time she had seen a dead body but it was the first time she’d been the cause of it, however justified she knew her actions to be. Pulled out of her guilt and grief filled mind, she muttered with a sniff, “I-I didn’t realize.” Her eyes burned from the tears and weariness quickly set in. She was tired from the dance, from the fight, and from the lateness of the hour. 

“I figured as much.” With a tired huff, Sans scooped her up into his arms. 

“Oh my god! Put me down!” she squealed burying her face into her hands but to hide her embarrassment rather than tears. “Nah, sleeps time. We’ll talk when the sun comes up.” he murmured, plopping them both on the bed. Scooting away from him and trying to hid her red cheeks, Frisk whispered, "This is inappropriate." 

"Sleepin’ on the floor is inappropriate." he whispered back. 

"I feel awful." Realistically Frisk knew she acted self defense but the imagery was too gruesome and she desperately wanted to erase it from her mind. Another thought occurred to her. “Did you take off your shoes?” The blank look on his face told her no, he did not. “You have to take off your shoes! I don’t want dirt on the bed.” One heavy sigh and much shifting later, Sans rolled back over to face her. “Betta?” 

“Yes.” she replied matter-of-factly. Whilst Sans appeared to have no issue falling asleep, Frisk couldn’t not stop her mind from racing. It was comforting having him here but she was embarrassed having him so close and in her bed of all places. _‘This is almost scandalous!’_ she thought, pulling the blanket around her. With the summer heat in full swing the blanket was almost too warm though she didn’t mind, feeling secure underneath it. “Hey Sans?” she whispered, scooting a little closer. “Are you awake?” A faint grunt was her only response. 

Despite the weariness in her bones, sleep eluded her mind. It was years since the last shoot out she’d been in, the old pain and fear reawakening memories she buried long ago. After the last shoot out, her grandmother demanded Frisk stop dancing. _“Go find something safe,_ Schätzchen _, the money isn’t worth it if I lose you too.”_ She’d gone to Slims after that, thinking all would finally be well. Plagued by memories of her grandmother and darker things, Frisk didn’t realize she had started crying again until Sans wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “Whateva’ you’re thinking about, stop it.” 

“It’s not that easy.” she whispered mournfully. 

“Don’t cry, darlin’.” he murmured gently, stroking her hair. 

“That isn’t easy either.”

He brushed the hair away from her face, letting his fingers linger against her cheek. She didn't pull back like what he feared. "What's bothering you?" he murmured. Frisk shook her head, unable to voice how she felt. She wanted desperately to rattle off everything in her brain, to tell anyone all the dark things she’d seen, how terrifying it was working around gangsters, and more importantly, how badly she wanted to leave this lifestyle behind to go somewhere bright and happy. For all it’s glitz and glamour, money and style, the city had turned a shade of grey in Frisk’s eyes, tainted by its own peoples. Regarding Sans, she was afraid of hurting his feelings as he was, after all, part of the reason for her hurt. She didn’t want him to leave, rather in that moment Frisk felt like she was truly seeing him. He didn’t have to be so kind to her nor was he under obligation to keep her informed, or more importantly be with her now. “I’m sorry.” she whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Be it the lateness of the hour or unexpectedness of her kiss, Sans stared at her in a daze. 

“Frisk, if only you knew. You’re the only good thing about this place.” he said, embracing her.

Given the events of the night prior, Frisk didn’t expect him to be there when she woke up. She had a sneaky suspicion he might’ve snuck out to check on her and wanted to get home before anyone noticed. The note was touching, he promised to be back as soon as possible and warned her to stay inside until he knew more. His handwriting was neater than what she thought it would be. The event at the club was something bigger than what she had been told and Frisk was anxious to learn what the goal of the supposed party really was. Wanting to distract her mind from such dark dealings, she resolved to venture for sunshine and ice cream, feeling quite safe during the daylight hours.

The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Frisk felt a lightness in her soul that had been missing for a long time. Ever cautious, she did watch the crowd carefully, looking for any signs of unrest. _‘Everyone is so normal. It’s strange.’_ she thought. She wondered if perhaps she would be like that someday, blissfully unaware and completely happy. 

“Well hot dog, he was right, you really do look like the spitting image of Chara.” 

Frisk’s pace slowed as the words registered. She turned to the voice as it continued, “Just chop your hair up to here,” said the spider monster, making a chopping gesture to her shoulders with one arm, “and you’d look _exactly_ like her.” 

“Who are you?” asked Frisk, shocked and unable to think of anything else to say. 

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Muffet. Say, why don’t we find some place a bit cozy to chat?” Without waiting for Frisk to respond, Muffet walked on ahead. Frisk had a half a mind to turn around and run back home yet she found herself following Muffet, wanting to know how and why she was approached. “I don’t come ‘round here too often but last I heard there was a nice little park nearby.” Muffet remarked in a nonchalant tone. “Asriel said your name was Frisk?” 

She could only stare at Muffet. “I..it is, yes.” The realization of that Muffet must have somehow tracked her down was terrifying. “Why-”

“Oh you weren’t too hard to find. It’s pretty obvious why you were there. Did you know even Gaster was effected? I know what they were planning and it was nearly shot to shit ‘cause of your magic.” As much as Muffet was enjoying herself, she didn’t want to fully reveal everything to Frisk. The woman was clearly confused and off-balance and that was right where Muffet wanted her. She didn’t want to scare the human. Not yet. 

Biting her lip and debating every step, Frisk nevertheless followed her in silence. Muffet led them to a more isolated part of the park, pulling a blanket out of her bag, and laid it on the grass. She sat down and patted for Frisk to sit beside her. "What do you want?" asked Frisk as she sat, being sure to keep enough space between them. Taking her time to answer, Muffet said rather playfully, wanting Frisk to rise to the bait, "Really I just wanted to meetcha! Asriel talked a whole lot about _you_." 

Seeing the game for what it was, Frisk, hoping to sound coy, replied, "Oh? I only met him once.” The quick frown that passed over Muffet’s face indicated that wasn’t the answer the spider was looking for. As much as she wanted to know what Muffet meant by Gaster being effected by her magic, Frisk felt the wiser move to make no acknowledgment of her magic. If she said anything in defense or opposition, Muffet could twist it anyway she wanted. “He thought it was rather interesting how Sans listened to you. And the brothers were at the party last night. Do you know them well?” 

She felt distinctly out of her element. _‘Remember you can effect her too. Calm down!’_ her mind demanded. Settling to a more relaxed and open pose and allowing a small slouch in her shoulders, Frisk responded, “I only met them that night. It appeared Sans was upset by whatever had transpired between them prior.” She hoped to sound flippant and casual. 

“Them? So you met Papyrus and Gaster too?” Internally Frisk tried not to scream and thought of a way to cover her blunder. 

“Only Papyrus, at the end of the night. He introduced me to him before departing. I’ve yet to meet the third brother. Are _you_ well acquainted with them?” 

A small smile teased Muffet’s lips. “Only casually. I see them every once and awhile. Do they know you can use magic?” 

“Did Asriel introduce you to the brothers?” she asked, purposely avoiding Muffet’s question.

“I know what I saw.” said Muffet forcefully. _‘Don’t think you can outwit me! I know who you are!’_ she thought angrily. 

Frisk merely shrugged, determined not to give in. Whatever Muffet was looking for, she wasn’t going to make it easy. “Were you at the charity ball too? Asriel did mention he became separated from a friend.” She wasn’t sure if Muffet was going to reach across and choke her or laugh. “Sadly no, otherwise I wouldn’t have let him out of my sight. He’s a good dancer, you know.” Muffet felt confused as to why she said that. Her mind felt fuzzy around the edges. _‘Dammit, it’s happening again. How is she doing that?’_ If it wasn’t for Frisk’s magic, Muffet was certain she could wear her down. Wanting to act quick and stop the human from whatever she was planning, Muffet lunged across the blanket, grabbing a hold of Frisk. “Whateva’ you’re doing, don’t think for a second it’s enough ta’ stop me. Stay away from Asriel if you know what’s good for you. He only thinks you’re something special because you look like _her_.” Muffet snarled, practically spitting out her words. 

_‘Jealousy is unbecoming.’_ is what Frisk wanted to say. “I-I don’t know what you mean. We’ve only met the once.” she reiterated. Muffet appeared to struggle with something, her face contouring from anger to impartialness and back again as she pulled back. 

“Is Sans your lover?” Muffet asked in a sickly sweet tone, hoping to regain control of the conversation. 

Frisk couldn’t help herself from laughing nor hide the blush in her cheeks. _‘Almost but not quite.’_ she thought. “No, no I am not his lover.” she giggled at the word. “We’re friends.” They were more than friends but not quite lovers, not yet. Muffet didn’t, or rather couldn't, doubt the dancer as the thoughts couldn’t quite take hold. She felt something wrong with her mind but fighting against it almost seemed like a silly thing to do. 

“Oh well. Good. I guess.” Muffet replied, her bluster gone. 

Wanting to throw something back at Muffet, to prove she could play the game just as well, Frisk countered with, “Are you lovers with Asriel? You are awfully concerned about his well being.” If they weren’t in a public space, Muffet was certain she would’ve decked the dancer. “T-that’s not anything for you to know!” 

_‘Oh my, how the tables have turned!’_ Frisk thought gleefully, quite proud of taking control of the conversation. “Ah, my mistake then. He’s lucky to have a _friend_ care so much about him. How long have you been _friends_?” She felt a little cruel as Muffet winced at her words but quickly shoved that emotion down. She was not going to be intimidated. 

“Off my blanket.” demanded Muffet, crossing her arms. 

With a casual shrug and smile, Frisk obliged, standing to leave. “This isn’t over. I know what you can do and my little spiders have told me lots about you and the brothers.” Muffet remarked with a triumphant grin. 

“I’ll be sure to tell them they’re being watched. Thanks for the warning.” Frisk replied, quickly moving away from Muffet. She didn’t look back to see Muffet’s expression. _‘I think I have earned my ice cream.’_ Her mood was tempered by the thought of having to tell Sans what just happened. Frisk felt confident she bested Muffet at whatever little scheme was going on but didn’t know how she was found in the first place. _‘It’s not like I talk to anyone, really. Except those at the club. Oh no! I need to ask if Suta is okay!’_ The thought of her friend had completely escaped her after everything that had transpired. Deciding it would be best to forgo ice cream, Frisk rushed home to call the club and hope someone answered. 

“Oh please pick up...please pick up.” she muttered into the phone, nervously twirling the cord around. With no response forthcoming, she resolved to wait until Sans came back. “I could just kick myself! Why didn’t I ever ask for his number?” She leaned against the wall, tapping her foot anxiously. _‘Because I didn’t expect to actually make friends with anyone. And the first people I meet, I forget all about!’_ With a scoff, Frisk decided to console herself with crackers, feeling like quite the squirrel munching on them as she stared out the window. “Something about spiders…” Frisk trailed off, thinking for a moment. “She couldn’t have meant actual spiders, could she?” With a frown at the thought of little spiders watching her every move, Frisk decided some cleaning was in order. Under any other circumstances, she was content to let the spiders and creepy-crawlies live their lives but with spiders potentially reporting her every move, Frisk resolved not to spare them. 

Standing in the middle of the room, broom in hand, Frisk boldly announced, “I’m giving you until the count of three to leave, if you value your life!” Halfway expecting to see a mass of scurrying eight legged bodies, Frisk looked around the room silently pleading for none to appear. Either they chose not to heed her order or there were none to be found. Regardless of any spider plotting, or lack thereof, Frisk put her broom to good work. 

She had decided to try sweeping under the mattress but her broom couldn’t reach all the way to the wall and the frame was much too heavy for her to move. Grabbing a rag, Frisk decided to attack the dust the old fashioned way and crawled under the bed frame, sweeping the rag around she went. _‘Oh this is so awful! Why don’t I dust more? I’m being invaded by dust bunnies!’_

“Um, Frisk where are you?” came the voice of Sans. 

Pleasantly surprised by how soon he’d returned, and mildly startled because she forgot he could teleport, Frisk went to scoot out from under the mattress, smacking her head into the bed springs. “Oh! I didn’t expect you back so soo- ow! I'm under the bed. There’s a lot…” She trailed off feeling her hair entangled around the metal springs. “Oh no.”

“Oh no?” was his confused response.

“My hair is stuck.” 

Clearly not aware of how entangled her hair could get around the snagging bed springs, he let out a laugh. “It can’t be that bad.” He crouched down to peek at her. “How’d you fit under here?”

“No, I mean it’s- ow!- really stuck.” She winced as she tried to pull a clump away from it. She laid her head on the floor, to show him just how much hair was truly caught. “Hallo, by the way.”

“Well hello to you too. That’s….” he frowned. “It’s not _that_ bad.” 

The blank look she gave him said otherwise. In a dark tone he didn’t know she was capable of, Frisk said, “ _Get the scissors._ ” 

“Woah now, no need to do anything drastic. You’re just in a bit of a snag.”

“Don’t start with me, mister.”

“It’s a _stuck_ y situation.” His cheesy grin thoroughly annoyed her. 

“Don’t you dare.”

“Is the bed springs is _hair_ assing you?”

“Well now you’re har _assing_ me.” she said, throwing the rag at him. 

“Pfft, ya missed!” he said with a triumphant laugh. “Okay now don’t go anywhere, I’m going to take the mattress off.” 

Frisk rubbed her eyes, regretting the whole situation. “All I wanted to do was clean.” she squeaked out to the floor as Sans lifted up the mattress. He set it down on the floor, barely containing his laughter. “What would you do without me?” he teased, standing over the bed springs. 

“Just help me untangle it.” she pleaded. She rolled over as much as she could to use both her hands to start carefully pulling it out. Sans obliged her request, sitting down and avoiding putting much weight on the bed springs. “You know, maybe you should braid it all up or somethin’, this is a rats nest. How’d you manage to do this?” he asked as he pulled out some strands. She winced as some of the hair snapped. “Ow, um, it’s bad luck. This happened when I was little and Mama hacked it up to my chin.” 

“Your own mother bobbed your hair? How _hair_ ifying.”

“Oh har har. It was the only time I let anyone cut my hair. Um,” she wasn’t sure how to bring up Muffet and decided it was best to just get it over with. “You know who Muffet? She ah, I met her today.” Sans’ eyes went dark. “Come again, darlin’?” Frisk bit back her nervousness and focused on the remaining tangles of hair. “I went for a walk and I think she was following me.” With the last little bit of her hair untangled, she scooted out from under the bed springs and continued on, “She was fishing for how we know each other. She knows I have magic but I don’t think she’s told anyone.” Sans was silent and Frisk didn’t know if she should continue on. “Um, I don’t know if it’s common knowledge or not but she and Asriel are ah… together-ish. I think. I think this was more personal for her.” she offered. She wasn’t certain if saying that clarified anything for Sans or not but his silence worried her. 

Sans was lost in his own thoughts. If he had it his way, Frisk would be pulled out of this scheme against Chara immediately. Given she hadn’t been grabbed off the street, he assumed she was right in saying Muffet had told no one about her magic. Gaster wasn’t going to be happy, Hell Sans wasn't happy. It was bad enough her magic had so greatly effected damn near everyone in the room, including Gaster himself, now Muffet was running around the city with that information. Asriel had a bit of a reputation so Sans would not be surprised if he and Muffet were sleeping together and if Muffet’s little ‘ _chat_ ’ with Frisk was for personal reasons, that was all the more reason to get Frisk out of this- and another reason added to pile of why he hated Asriel. “Did she say anything else?” he gritted out, thinking of the rival gangster.

“She warned me to stay away from Asriel. I.. uh…” Frisk hesitated uncertain if she should bring up what Muffet had said about her and Sans. “She doesn't know enough about me to have said much. I told her we met at the charity ball. I didn’t acknowledge anything she said about my magic.” The more she spoke, the more she felt like a small child awaiting judgment from a parent. They set the bed back onto the frame, or rather Sans did as Frisk clutched her blankets and marveled at how easily he slung the mattress around. Together they put the blankets back in order and sat on the bed, Frisk unsure if she should inquire about Suta and his band’s wellbeing. “So that little shit has been runnin' his mouth about you to her? To Muffet? And she warned _you_ away from _him_?" 

Regretting ever saying anything about Asriel, Frisk nodded. "Ah, yes." In an attempt to steer the conversation away from Asriel given that Sans looked like he was throwing things, Frisk continued on, "I think her main goal was figuring out how we know each other. She doesn't know I work for you and your brothers." 

"Ya know you’re going to have to talk to Wings ‘bout this. And about the club.” Sans said slowly, after a moment. 

“What happened at the club? And are the musicians alright? I don’t have Suta’s number and no one picked up at the club.” 

“Yea, they’re fine, I think the door was barricaded so they didn’t have the same problem with someone gettin’ in. There’s a lot of clean up right now so don’t expect anyone to answer for the next couple of days.” There was a pin prick of jealousy in his tone that Frisk chose to ignore. “Anyways you ah...charmed, I guess is the word? Everyone in the room.” 

Not quite understanding what he meant, Frisk asked, “Isn’t that what I was supposed to do?” With a snort, Sans replied, “ _Everyone_ was effected.” 

“Effected as in everyone liked my dancing?” asked Frisk, confused. The blank look he gave her, said no, that was not what happened. “You really have no idea what you did?” Frisk shook her head, still not understanding. “You started dancing and….” he trailed off, unsure of how to describe it. “It was like a fog came over me and everything else was gone. All I remember is you.” 

It was Frisk’s turn to be in stunned silence. “I hypnotized people?” 

“That’s what it felt like.” 

“I didn’t even know I could do that! I thought all I was doing was making people happy.” she said, feeling a bit dejected. She worked hard on her routines and wanted others to enjoy them. When Gaster talked about her magic he said nothing about hypnotizing people. She thought it was simply charming people into a better mood. Sans pulled her in for a hug. “Hey now don’t be glum because you put everyone into a magical stupor by dancing. Somethin’ that should cheer ya up,” he said, pulling an envelope out of his breast pocket. “I’m playin’ delivery boy today. Congratulations kid, ya got paid.” Frisk happily snatched the envelope out of his hand and pranced about. “Would you like to get ice cream? It’ll be my treat!” she exclaimed. 

“Don’t get too excited because I’m also delivering you to Wings.”

“Oh.” 

“Yea.”

~------~------~------~


	16. New Home...Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine finds herself in a new home and doesn't understand how weather in the Underground works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Check the comments of the most recent chapter for updates! Sorry chapter 17 is taking so long!***Terribly sorry this is coming out so late (and it's pretty much a filler chapter)! I'm almost done with summer term (thank God). I need a break from school, my brain is fried eggs. Admittedly, I've also been combating writer's block. I want to write and I have bits and pieces of scenes written out but nothing is coming quite together. Because presently I am watching an old season of the Masked Singer and someone brought it up, I went to the same high school as Mario Lopez. I think it was my junior year he visited the school. He's shorter than what I expected but was really nice to the students. That's my high school's claim to fame. Fun fact about Chula Vista high school, there is a gate around the front of the school because little teeny bopper gang bangers kept fighting in front of the school. It was a game of who would stay the longest before the police arrived. I grew up in the ghetto, ratatataaaa~ ;p  
> +The Crimson Kimono (1959) is an 8/10 for me. Some of the dialogue and way the actors speak is a little strange, like they were attempting an accent and gave up. The editing is a little funky too. Other than that it's nice seeing an older movie not play into racial stereotypes and portray another culture in a positive manner. Overall, I really enjoyed it.  
> \+ Repo: The Genetic Opera (2008) is a must. It came out when I was a sophomore in high school (gah, I am so old!) and I've loved it ever since. I want a sequel but at the same time, I don't know what it would look like. But a prequel with the Graverobber would be amazing. Petition to make it happen!

~------~------~------~

The snow was unexpected, despite being told to expect it. Frisk thought Sans was joking when he said there was snow in the Underground, especially since it was summer, but everywhere she looked there the white stuff was. Coming from the near sweltering summer heat to what Frisk determined to be a winter wasteland, the cold bite of the snow felt very offensive. “Jeez, you weren’t kidding.” she whined, hugging herself.

“Mm-hm. That’s why I said to get your boots.” Sans replied with a shit-eating smirk she wanted to throw a snowball at. The pink jacket did nothing to block out the chill and she regretted wearing her very summer weather appropriate flats. "Come on girly, it's warmer inside." The house was not what she expected any gangster to live in, let alone the brothers, as the outside was standard, welcoming even, in appearance. The front was simple with only a few windows, emitting light from within, and a small covered porch. 

"Why didn't you teleport inside the house?" she asked through chattering teeth, clutching tightly to her jacket. 

"I know where I'm landing but it's risky with other people. Ya ever see someone get stuck in a wall? It ain't pretty." he explained as they walked to the door.

The context of _that_ situation was not something Frisk was particularly interested in hearing, especially with the lurch in her stomach at the visual. “I’ll take your word on it.” she muttered and followed him inside. As charming as the exterior was, so too was the interior. _'He’s having a go at me. There is no way they live here!'_ Frisk thought as she looked around. By her assessment, all that was missing was the smell of baked goods and the low hum of a radio. _‘This is almost like my cousins house.’_ The sharp pain of the missing family quickly pulled her from that line of thinking. She didn’t want to get emotional over her employer’s house whilst in their house and about to speak to them. With a short sniff to block out the heartache, she continued to observe the interior. To the right was a fireplace being put to good use, and before her was a large room with a staircase on the left leading to a second level nestled against the wall. The furnishings were quite sparse with only a long couch and a few chairs to decorate it. She was convinced this had to be a joke, and was about to inquire if Sans had decided to break into a random house when both Gaster and Papyrus emerged from where she assumed was the kitchen. 

“Muffet’s an issue. She attempted to grill Frisk.” he announced. 

The looks on both the brother’s faces fell into a glare but Gaster brightened up immediately and cheerfully asked, "Ah, Miss Frisk! Would you like some coffee?” 

She was little taken aback being offered something as normal as coffee after such an announcement but agreed to a cup. _'Coffee, a fire? It’s so nice in here! What is happening?'_ Gangsters didn't live in _cozy_ , if not slightly Spartan in decor, homes. They lived in opulent mansions, flaunting their wealth! Or so she thought. Eyeing the brothers however, in a strange way Frisk concluded they did indeed fit their home, even if they had a penchant for wearing mostly black and red, completely clashing with the earthen toned interior. In an attempt to imagine them in something other than their usual black and red suits, the only image she could summon up was that of a lumberjack. Following Sans’ lead, she took a seat on the couch, trying hard to keep her composure and not laugh in their faces about suspenders and axes. Frisk had a sneaky suspicion they wouldn’t find it as funny. _‘At least Sans sometimes wears blue. Speaking off…’_ She looked over to him, wondering how close they could sit together without raising any suspicion. It wasn’t something she had to ponder for very long as Gaster sat between her and Sans and handed over a cup of coffee. "Thank you." she said, taking a sip to mask a smile at Sans', annoyed and slightly confused expression. The coffee was strong and warm, and she held the cup tightly, grateful for it's warmth. 

“It appears this day has been rather eventful for you. What’s this about Muffet?” asked Gaster as he leaned in a little too close for Frisk’s comfort. She squished herself against the corner of the couch and recounted the events of the morning, leaving out Muffet’s teasing about her and Sans. She and Sans had yet to speak on where they stood, despite him staying the night with her, and decidedly did not want to out them to his brothers. 

Gaster was silent, lost in his own thoughts at her story. Neither Papyrus or Sans spoke as both appeared to be waiting for some sort of cue from him. For her part, Frisk carefully sipped her coffee and stared at her shoes, willing her toes to not be wet from the snow. “Now that is interesting. We need to fumigate the apartment as soon as possible, there’s likely spiders hiding there. I’m assuming that’s how she tracked you down so quickly.” 

“More like burn it down.” muttered Sans, resting his head against his hand. The slow nods of agreement worried Frisk. 

“There.. It can’t be that...bad?” she offered.

“Miss human, there are literally thousands of them at the club. Still. Likely even more are hiding in the area. If Asriel sends Muffet again, we need to lock her in a box and throw her in a river.” grumbled Papyrus. 

Frisk’s mind wandered back to her apartment. _‘Thousands?’_ She didn’t want to consider all the spiders that may be hiding in her little home. She wondered if the spiders mocked her declaration of cleaning war as she got stuck under the bed. She could picture them rubbing their rubbing little spider hands together, plotting what information they were going to regal Muffet with. “Regardless of all the godforsaken spiders, this is a rather.. _interesting_ ,” the way Gaster said the word sent shivers up Frisk’s spine like someone dumped her in the snow outside. “Turn of events. Seeing as you haven’t been snatched yet, it’s best if you’re temporarily hidden. Whatever she remembers from last night, it’s clearly not enough for her to report it, however you need another place to live.”

She tried not to sound small as she spoke but the direction the conversation was going was not something particularly desirable. “Ah, where should I go?” 

In any other context she would’ve called Gaster’s smile friendly, if not a little too friendly, but now she felt like a mouse caught in a trap and Gaster was a quite pleased cat. “You’ll have to stay here for the time being. It’s a perfect opportunity to see what else you can do. So in light of everything, Sans, Papyrus, help our Miss Frisk into the guest room. We’ll deal with the little spider later.” For a moment, Frisk thought she had gotten off the hook and the topic of her magic was forgotten. Her relief was short lived when Gaster reached over to place his hand on hers. Unused to being touched by anyone other than Sans, she fought back the urge to yank her hand away. His hand reminded her of a long white spider dancing over its prey. “We’ll discuss your magic when you are settled in.” 

To Frisk's ears that sounded more like a threat. 

Staring at the little apartment around her, Frisk felt a small twinge of pain. It had only been a mere four months yet she held a sense of attachment to it. It was _her_ home. Living alone had an unexpected appeal and she didn’t want roommates to intrude on the silence or her newfound independence. Nevermind those roommates also happened to be her employers and one was a romantic interest. As they packed, the trio kept a close eye out for any spiders scurrying around but none were to be found. _‘Maybe they ran away so we wouldn’t squish them.’_ she thought, folding up her purple costume. _‘Now where is the suitcase?’_ It had been discarded as soon as Sans had teleported her home, shoved under the dresser. 

“WHY DO YOU EAT SO MANY CRACKERS?” yelled Papyrus. 

“Paps we are right here!” snapped Sans, rubbing the side of his head. Ignoring his brother, Papyrus turned on his heels away from her little cupboards, waving a cracker box. “Is this all you eat?” 

“Only when I’m feeling crumby.” Frisk said flatly as she stared down at the empty suitcase. Being faced with the accursed object set her soul on edge. The sound of the leather corner hitting flesh echoed in her mind and she needed a distraction. Cracking a joke felt like the best thing to do.

Papyrus broke his blank stare at her when he heard Sans chuckled. “ _You’re_ teaching her this.” Papyrus accused, as he crossed his arms.

“What? Paps you should know I’m not all I’ve _crackered_ up to be in the joke department!” exclaimed Sans feigning shock and held his hands to his chest, as if injured. He was more than happy to join in if it meant annoying his little brother. 

“I know it may be a little punbelievable but-.” she started to chip in. 

“NO BUTS! JUST PACK!” yelled Papyrus. 

“Bold of you to _ass_ ume we aren’t already done.” grinned Sans, giving Frisk a wink. 

Papyrus threw a box of crackers at Sans, hitting him squarely on the shoulder. "Just finish packing! And you missy! You're helping me. That damn oaf is clearly a bad influence." Papyrus scolded. Sans simply laughed and replied in a faux shocked voice, “Papyrus! Language!” 

"More like a bad punfluence." Frisk replied. She tried desperately to keep her face straight.

If Papyrus had another box of crackers, he wasn’t certain if it would be thrown at the tiny human or his brother. In what she assumed to be his best impression of a disapproving Gaster, Papyrus once more crossed his arms and glared the duo down. “Don’t think either of you are off the hook for this.” he stated sternly. “Miss Frisk, assist me with finishing the kitchen. Sans! Do not go through her unmentionables!” Sans closed the drawer and leaned against the dresser, smiling like a fool.

“Let's switch.” said Frisk, turning a little pink. She hadn’t finished packing all her clothes and her underclothes were some of the last items left. Whilst she felt her underclothes were a little plain, she still did not want to be caught handling them, especially by the opposite sex. Especially by Sans. With a huff, Papyrus replied, “Fine by me.” 

Within two short teleport trips, her whole life once more moved.

The guest room was upstairs next to Sans' room. Frisk wasn't certain if she was more excited about that or the wondrous view of the snow covered forest. She placed her head in hands and gazed out to the trees, reminiscing of past years where she had grown up surrounded by a forest. Since her arrival at the house, Frisk had seen very little of the brothers. Papyrus and Sans disappeared off to the finish clean up at the club. Likely it was the type of clean up that involved dumping bodies and she didn't inquire further into it. Gaster gave her a quick tour of the home, pointed out their rooms and his office, and sternly warned her to avoid them. It was an easy promise for Frisk to make though she was curious as to what Sans room looked like. The little house was neater than expected, especially with what amounted to three bachelors living there. 

It disheartened her a bit but she wasn't surprised by the lack of family photos or any sort of heirlooms. Her cousins were taken with cameras and took pictures of each other almost every week. Their home was filled with family photos and trinkets passed on through the generations. She hadn't heard from them so long and wasn't sure if they were even still alive. Being in such a familiar looking house and surrounded by silence and solitude, her mind wandered to lost and sad things. 

With the evening approaching, Frisk decided to do something bold- she was going to make them dinner. A quick rifling through the pantry and cupboard yielded a few Italian cookbooks and lots of noodles. "When was the last time I ate spaghetti?" she thought aloud. It was an easy dish and there was enough meat she could make meatballs. Her diet consisted mostly of pancakes, crackers, and probably too much candy (and ice cream). Cooking a nice noodle dish, however simple, was almost literally foreign to Frisk. 

When at last the meatballs and sauce were complete and noodles thoroughly cooked, Frisk dug around for enough bowls and set the small table. She felt rather domestic caring for others, even if they were brutal gangsters, and was quite proud of the table setup. All that was missing was a small vase of flowers to complete the picture. There was no spare chair for her but she liked eating alone anyways. Glancing up at the clock, it was nearly eight o'clock. She peeked out into the living room. No sign of them. "Hmm.." 

Frisk frowned and pranced up to the window. Maybe they were taking a car instead of teleporting? She couldn't see any headlights in the fog. They did such a mix of traveling she didn’t know how to expect them. _'Fog and snow! How is this possible in the Underground?'_ She resolved to ask Sans about it later. 

Uncertain if such late hours were normal, she paced for an hour, doing her best to avoid stalking the clock. At nine o'clock, Frisk dejectedly made a small bowl and sat at the table. She felt more like a child than an adult as her legs swung back and forth, nowhere near the ground. _'No wonder people don't take me seriously. I'm too short!'_

At ten o'clock, weariness overwhelmed Frisk and she packed the dinner away, leaving a small note on the table so they knew it was in the refrigerator. She marched up the stairs to the guest room and collapsed on the bed in a restless sleep.

Be it the fog in her mind of being woke up or the excitement of Sans being home, a particular feeling of mischievousness came over Frisk as part of the bed sank under his weight. "Why hallo there sir. Don't you know it's very improper to invite yourself into a lady's bed?" she half mumbled, half giggled out. Frisk rolled over to face him and rubbed her eyes open. 

"Oh please forgive me. I remembered to take my shoes off this time." was Sans' sarcastic response as he wrapped her up in a tight embrace. Her protest of giggles and blushes did nothing but encourage him. "Thank you for dinner, by the way." he murmured as he freed an arm to stroke her cheek. 

"Do you always stay out so late?" Frisk asked. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into his hand. 

"Mm-hm. All parta' da business." was his tired response. 

"What's happening tomorrow?" 

Sans paused, forcing his brain to recall the nightly conversation with his brothers. "Um, let's see…" he pressed his face against her neck. "Papyrus is droppin' stuff around. I have some otha' business to attend too." He wasn't about to explain some businesses and people had missed their final deadline for paying their dues. It wasn't a pleasant practice she needed to hear about. "And I think you an' Wings are going ova' your magicness." He felt her tense up. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to let go of him. "Do you know what that entails?" she asked so quietly, he almost didn't hear her.

"Honestly, it's nothin' bad. Knowing Wings, it'll be more like training a child how to use their magic." Sans murmured. Frisk didn't respond so he decided to make her. She squeaked like a mouse as he nipped her neck. 

"Sans!"

"That's me."

"What are you doing?"

It was late and sleep sounded appealing to Sans, but he had Frisk all tangled up and to himself. However long she was going to be with them, he wanted to take advantage of having her quite literally within arms reach. "Well sweetcheeks, it's called biting." he explained, giving her another nip. He didn't need to see her face to know her cheeks were as red as a strawberry. 

"Don't do that!" she whispered frantically.

"Don't do what now?" he teased as he lazily rolled a lock of hair around his finger. 

If his face wasn't buried against her neck, Frisk would've glared at him with her most withering glare. "Don't bite me. If you wish to bite something go to the kitchen." she scolded in faux anger. She was a little embarrassed but certainly not angry. Then Sans pulled away to face her and spoke. "Darlin' I'm not hungry for that kind of food." Frisk leaned back, grabbed a pillow, and firmly thumped it against his face. 

"That's i-inappropriate!" she whispered, probably a little too frantically if Sans lecherous smirk was any indication. If his fingers weren't so wrapped up in her hair, Frisk had half a mind to scoot away from her lustful not-quite-yet-her-lover lover.

He barely contained his laughter as he freed his hand from her soft hair and instead enclosed it around her wrist. The pillow fell away, very much forgotten. Her skin felt soft and her wrist so delicate. When he first saw her, she was rather waifish in appearance and very little had changed since then. He pinned her thin wrist to the bed and leaned in close to whisper sultury, "Right now darlin' I don't feel like bein' appropriate." 

For her part, Frisk let out a little squeak and tried to wiggle her hand free and she waded into very unfamiliar territory. "So I was thinkin'," she started nervously biting her lip. 

"That's dangerous, doll." he growled out. It was her nervous habit, he knew, but in the context of their current position appeared much more naughty. 

"Mm-hm, but I was thinking you should probably head back to your bedroom." Frisk didn't want to shift around too much but there was a growing… discomfort? She didn't feel like that was quite the right word but didn’t know what else to name the budding sensation. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and a hidden desire but this wasn't exactly the time and place she imagined sleeping with anyone. 

"That's no fun." he huffed, resting his head against her chest. Her heart beat delightfully fast and he let go of her wrist, trailing his hand down her arm to grab her waist. "What if we laid here for awhile and I felt ya up some?" Her sharp intake of breath and tensing told him to prepare for another smack with the pillow. It didn't hit as hard as the first one and she let it go rather than hold on it. "Let's not and say we did."

"Let's do it and say we did. Double the fun."

She giggled but held firm. "You never know, it could be nice just laying here." 

"Pfft, fine. I'll humor you, my prim and proper little lady." 

Once more Frisk wrapped her arms around Sans neck as he rested his head against her chest. The weight of him felt comforting against her body, and his presence chased the nightmares. She didn't want him to go. He shifted slightly, to raise his head and gaze at her. "I've been meanin' to tell ya, little lady, I'm crushin' pretty hard on you. If you can't tell."

"You were so subtle, I had no idea!" she replied, feigning shock and giggling. "I'm crushin' pretty hard ya too, you know.”

A faint blush appeared in his cheeks, _'How exactly does that work?'_ , as he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against hers. Frisk wasn't quite sure what to expect but he felt somehow simultaneously soft and hard, like she was kissing lips too close to the bones. It wasn't unpleasant and she returned the kiss as passionately as he kissed her. "Shit Frisk, where've you been all my life?" Sans murmured as he held her tenderly. 

"Oh, here and there." she said lightly, drawing small circles on his shoulders blades. She could feel him smile against her skin, a sensation that threw shivers up her spine. 

"I vote we do this every night yer here." he faintly whispered. Despite Sans' excitement at having Frisk so close, the tasks of the day and promise of an early morning pushed him into sleep. Frisk, who had several more hours of sleep on Sans, simply hummed in agreement. _‘But what if they catch you in here? I don’t want you to get in trouble!’_ She was about to inquire as to his morning plans when a loud snore interrupted her. _‘Oh...well…’_ Her thoughts slowly halted in her mind as she listened to his breathing. _‘This is nice.’_


	17. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine learns what happens when one excels in their abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry this took so long to come out. I'm trying to get my creative writing skills kicked back into high gear but it's a slow process. Good news, part of chapter 18 is written so hopefully it won't take too long to come out. Also I have a Tumblr! It's MissRaindancer and I haven't posted any artwork- mostly I just reblog posts. I haven't been on Tumblr in literal years. Like even though it was a thing when I was growing up, I've always associated it with little teeny-boppers. I didn't realize how many late 20 year olds are active on there, it's a little crazy. So this is really big news! For Fall term do not expect a lot of updates. I'm taking 17 credits so big yikes but I'm halfway through my Bachelors (thank you associate programs!) so the goal is graduate as soon as possible. I'm going to learn Attic and Koine Greek which is like a massive dream of mine. I love ancient Greece. So yea, just a heads up that end of the month, things might progress a bit slower than my usual level of slow.

~------~------~------~

Thwack!

_When the suitcase hit his head she didn’t look away._

_Her grandmother watched the man fall. “What are you doing, Frisk?”_

_The blood splattered against the old woman’s dress._

_“Grandmama, I-” She tried to reach for her._

Thwack! 

_The suitcase hit his head again and she couldn’t look away._

_“Schätzchen, why did you do that?”_

_“Don’t go! Grandmama!” Hot tears rolled down her cheeks._

_Her hands were painted red. “I’m sorry.”_

Thwack! 

_“I’m sorry.” Bits of skull littered the carpet._

Thwack!

_The purple costume was stained red. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop-”_

Thwack! 

_“Frisk?” Sans looked down at her._

_"Not him… please.. No!"_

_“Frisk?”_

Sobs wracked her body as she clutched him. He had been awoken by the sound of crying and strength of her grip- it very nearly hurt as she clung to him. “Frisk? Hey wake up.” Sans gently shook her back to consciousness. Wide tear stained eyes opened to face him. “Darling, don’t cry.” he murmured, wiping her tears away. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, sleep still fogging her mind.

“You’re the one crying! What’s wrong with you?” he whispered worriedly.

“I am?” She touched her face, feeling the stream of tears still falling. “Oh.” Unsure how to make her feel better and too tired to do much more, Sans wrapped Frisk up in his arms, pulling the blanket tight around her. “Whateva’ you were dreaming about, you're safe now.” Frisk buried her face against his chest. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked softly. 

She shook her head. “No. What time is it?” Sans shifted back to look squint at the clock on the wall. “I’m thinking it’s too early in the morning.” he groaned. In actuality it was the right time for him to get up. No doubt Papyrus would be banging on his door soon and trying to explain why he was coming out of Frisk’s room was not a wanted conversation at any hour of the day. “Well it’s about that time. Ya gonna be alright?” Frisk nodded, reluctantly letting go. 

“Should I get up too?” She didn’t really want to go back to sleep but at least if she was awake, she wouldn't be plagued by the nightmare.

“Blame on Paps if you do. He’ll feel bad and won’t be so loud in the morning.” replied Sans with a conspiratorial grin. Many a time he had been woken to the sound of the door nearly being busted in and Papyrus’ loud morning shout. As much as he wished to linger with Frisk and go back to sleep, he accepted his early morning fate, and reluctantly rolled out of the bed. “You gonna be okay?” Frisk didn’t respond at first and in the darkness, Sans couldn’t be sure if she had fallen back asleep.

“I’ll be fine. I think...I think I’m going to get up too.” Frisk replied after a moment. She hadn’t had such a terrible night terror since childhood and hoped it was simply from the stress of the day prior. She sat in the foreign bed for a moment longer after Sans left, stretching out her arms and legs. A mischievous smirk crossed her face as she heard Papyrus rather loudly knock on Sans’ door, though it sounded more like he was trying to batter it down. 

“SANS! THIS IS YOUR BROTHER, THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS! WAKE UP!” 

Maybe it would be fun to play along. She tried not to giggle as she ever so carefully tiptoed to the door and cracked it open. The banging had stopped and was replaced by Sans throwing open the door and yelling back. “Shaddup! I’m awake!” 

“BE QUIET OR YOU’LL WAKE MISS FRISK!”

As innocently as she could, Frisk peeked her head out and groggily asked, “What’s going on?” Papyrus cleared his throat, looking rather uncomfortable. “Ah, Miss Frisk. Terribly sorry to have woken you up trying to get _Sans_ up.” She made a show of yawning to hide her smile and sleepily asked, “What time is it?” 

“It is exactly 5:3 _2_ in the morning.” He shifted from leg to the other as the trio regarded one another. Though he didn’t say it, Frisk could tell he was a little embarrassed having ‘woken’ her up as he yelled at Sans. “You are not required to be awake now but are more than welcome to the coffee in the kitchen.” announced Papyrus a little more quieter as he turned on his heels to go downstairs. Sans gave Frisk as thumbs up and wink, which she returned. Slipping back into the room, she debated what to wear for the day. 

~------~------~

Frisk took some time to go through her morning routine before heading downstairs. The smell of coffee was strong as she entered the kitchen. The house was mostly dark, with only a single light on in the kitchen and a bright glow emanating from the fireplace. None of the three brothers were in the kitchen and it took her a moment to discover which cupboard held the coffee mugs. Though the house was warm, she chose to stand next to the fireplace, staring out the window. A feeling of surrealness took over as she watched the snow fall. Just several miles up above the sun was peeking over the horizon bringing forth sweltering heat and humidity of summer. With all the snow, Frisk felt like baking and preparing a Christmas tree. 

“Good morning Miss Frisk. I trust you slept well?” She nearly jumped out of her skin at Gaster's greeting. He moved as silent as shadow and she didn't notice his presence until he spoke. "Um, Guten Morgen. I did. Thank you." He simply smiled at her nervousness. "I must hold a morning meeting with my brothers- we'll be in my office- and then you and I shall discuss your magic." he explained. Frisk nodded. She half expected Gaster to leave right away but he lingered for a moment longer, watching her. Unnerved under his impassive gaze, Frisk sipped her coffee and tried very hard to ignore him as she watched the early morning snow. Whatever sun they had in the Underground was slowly starting to rise, it's rays barely visible under the heavy clouds. The horizon faintly glowed gold but she had a feeling it wouldn't last. Weather in the Underground was unfamiliar to her but she recognized the signs of the start of a blizzard. 

The heavy footfalls of Sans and Papyrus were a welcome distraction from the silence of Gaster and budding snow storm. "Meet me in my office." was the greeting to his brothers. Today's work was simple compared to the plots against Chara. Overnight no word on Muffet's presence had been delivered and he assumed she had scurried off for the time being. Beyond securing their territory, the usual business still needed to happen. Gaster had yet to plan _their_ next move, choosing to wait and see what Asriel decided. Either way the situation turned, Frisk would have to be kept hidden away until it was certain Muffet kept her silence. 

As for Frisk, she decided to recline on the large couch, curling up in a corner. She wasn't quite unused to such early hours but it had been awhile. As peaceful as it was sitting in the near dark of the living room, her mind replayed the nightmare, analyzing every detail and emotion. She hadn't seen in reality what happened to the man who attacked her but she felt it as the corner of the suitcase sunk into his head. She felt his skull cave and heard his body slam to the ground. 

Frisk shuddered and clutched the cup tightly. _'Don't think of it. It's over. I'm not even there. I'll probably never dance at that club again.'_ She tried to rationalize the fear and guilt away but it ate at her soul. She wanted to dance and entertain others, not hurt them. When she was back on the surface, Frisk resolved to try to contact Suta once more. He knew of other dancers and other clubs she could go too and thoughts of running away still played in her mind. _'Maybe I could take Sans with me. We could run away together! Like Romeo and Juliet.'_ The girlish thought ended as Frisk remembered they both died at the end of the story. _'Maybe not like them. But we could still leave. If he wants too…'_. 

Did Sans want to leave? Was that ever something he thought of? Did he ever think of escaping this life for something different? Frisk wanted to ask so badly but there was no subtle way to ask someone to run away with you. She sighed and sank further into the couch. This wasn't easy and unlike the other men who'd been in her life, she couldn't argue away or rationalize her feelings. 

T'was not even an hour before the brothers emerged once more. They went to the kitchen for more coffee and she heard Sans heave a great sigh and grumble, "Stupid morning. Why do we have to be up so early?" Frisk couldn't quite make out Gaster's reply but he sounded amused at Sans' complaints. When only Gaster appeared from the kitchen, she assumed the other two had teleported off to the city. Despite knowing it wasn't possible to properly say 'Goodbye.' to him, she still felt a small amount hurt. Living with the brothers was quite the double edged sword to her relationship with Sans. 

"So Miss Frisk, no time like the present." said Gaster as he emerged from the kitchen and sat on the opposite end of the couch. "You somehow managed to hypnotize an entire room full of people, including my brothers _and_ me." He spoke in a rather cheerful tone though to Frisk there was a slight strain. "We don't know much about human magic and it's always been assumed to be passive. Just a simple effect to make yourself appear less threatening. And then with Muffet! You said she was thrown off? She's regarded as one of the Dreemurrs best spies. She isn't simply thrown off." 

He leaned forward and Frisk wished she could back up, so unnerved by his unwavering gaze was she. "How do you do it?"

Frisk opened her mouth but was uncertain. Shaking her head she stated, "I-I.. when I dance, I don't…. I feel the music. What the song is about and I want others to feel it. I didn't think about…" she paused to consider her thoughts. "No, I did think about mesmerising people. I wanted everyone to feel what I felt." She stared down at her feet, too nervous to look at him. Once again, Frisk found herself feeling like a child waiting to either be scolded for her actions or praised for her abilities. She didn't feel him move but as she peeked up, Gaster was closer to her. 

"And with Muffet?"

"I didn't want to be intimidated. I wanted to be in control of the conversation." 

"You attract, charm, and repel others. All with your intentions, then?" 

"And I can make a shield." she offered, in a happy, if not slightly nervous, tone. Frisk raised her hands and concentrated on them. It was not easy like after her performance but slowly the pink bubble emerged between her fingers. She didn't realize there was a slight glow to it, almost pink like the sunset. It steadily grew and flattened out, taking on a more proper shield appearance. Having some sort of barrier between her and Gaster was comforting. A sharp ache stabbed behind her eyes and the shield was lost as she winced. "It didn’t hurt after the performance. I don’t know how to work around that." she explained, rubbing her eyes. Silent as a shadow, he was closer than ever before, nearly leaning over her. "Your soul is pink.” 

“I-I like the color.” She tried to not sound afraid but he was too close.

“The color of one’s magic is reflective of their soul. Pink means love and compassion. I didn’t realize human souls had attributes like monster souls.”

“That sounds nice.” Frisk replied rather meekly. 

Gaster sat back, seemingly lost in thought. “How did you protect yourself from the man at the club?” He mulled over each word in the sentence, as if making sure it was the right one as it came out. She closed her eyes, trying to force the memories away. _‘Don’t think about the dream. That’s all it was.’_ Taking a breath, she explained, “I…..I thought about making him go away. I had…” _Thwack!_ “I had my suitcase for my costume and I thought if I hit him hard enough I’ll be safe. I didn’t know I put any magic in the hit.” Everything was brown like her suitcase, even the coffee. She stared at her dress. It was blue like the sky and evoked much more pleasant memories. 

“I’ve heard rumors about Chara's abilities but anything to do with her is likely false. Though, mayhaps there’s a bit of truth to it, given what you are apparently capable of doing.” He cocked his head at her and rather it being a curious motion, he looked like a bird of prey. “I want to see what you can do, not just through dancing.” A rock formed in her stomach. “You can hypnotize, so let’s see how far that can be taken.” Gaster stood and reached out his hand for her. “Miss Frisk, if you please, follow me.” Frisk wished she could teleport like Sans. Trying to hide her reluctance, she took his hand. 

He led her to a door she hadn’t noticed before, next to his office. It opened to near pitch black and stairs leading down. Unbothered by the lack of light, he led her down and Frisk could hear the faint sound of chains rattling and a muffled moan. “We captured a handful of Chara’s men for questioning.” She knew what that involved and a gangster’s idea of ‘questioning’ always involved their fists. Being with Sans, the brother’s brutal reputation was often pushed out of her mind. It was hard to ignore her potential lover's work when it was quite literally sitting before her. “Only a few have survived for questioning. It’s no problem to extract information for them, however the value of it can be questionable if asked under duress. I want to see how much you get from him.” In the center of a basement was a man chained rather firmly down in a chair, a blindfold and gag covered his eyes and mouth respectively. Despite the dim light that hung above him, Frisk could see many signs of bruising and cuts on his skin and his clothes were ripped in many places. She was thankful at most for breakfast she had was coffee. Gaster flicked a lightswitch and the room brightened. None too gently he pulled the blind and gag off the terrified man. “Miss Frisk, if you please. He knows what we want.” 

Uncertain of what to say or even do, Frisk walked over to the man and crouched down. The captive man looked from her to Gaster and back again. _‘Pink means compassion. I can do this.’_ Frisk held onto the small hope somehow the man would make it out of this alive. “Sir, you need to be hones-” 

“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’!” He was determined to not speak. Tentatively, she reached her hand out to touch his shoulder. _‘Oh God, he feels mushy. Don’t think about it.’_ She hoped the fear felt was not visible on her face. “You know what’s going to happen, if you don’t talk, don’t you?” He grunted in a manner that sounded more like a groan. Given his shoulder felt like a bruised peach, his ribs were likely damaged too. Her hand moved from his shoulder to face. Briefly their eyes met and all she could see was anger and pain. She quickly looked away. “You _have_ to tell him what he wants to know.” she started softly. Frisk imagined pushing soothing little pink lights into him. _‘Just tell us. Just tell Gaster. You won’t be beaten if you just_ tell him _.’_

Confusion crossed over his face and the man seemed to struggle against something. “Chara’ll kill me if I say anything.” he whispered. “I’m not….” He puffed out his chest proudly and loudly declared. “I ain’t talkin’, ya dumb bitch.” 

Frisk had never seen Gaster visibly angry before and the reaction frightened her more than the insult stung. He rounded the man, his fists clenched and eyes narrowed. “Wings, w-wait!” She held out her hands to him, silently pleading for him to not start beating the man. Though not quite on a first name basis with him, she hoped Sans' nickname would shake Gaster out of further beating the man. Once more Frisk placed her hands against the man's face forcing him to look down at her, and concentrated. “You have to talk to us. Please, don’t fight it.” For the first time, Frisk met his gaze and held it. “You are going to tell us everything we want to know.” The man’s face contorted angrily and he tried to jerk away from her. “Don’t fight me.” Frisk firmly stated. She wasn’t used to being so assertive, much less in an attempt to interrogate a man. She pressed her hands into his face as firmly as she stated her words, a faint warm pink glow appearing against his skin where her hands touched. “You _have to tell us._ ” Something in the man’s expression broke at the words, like he was dazed. Frisk looked over to Gaster. As much as she wanted to flee back upstairs, she wasn’t certain if the effect would still hold if she let go of the man. “I think he’ll talk.” she said quietly. 

Gaster crouched down next to Frisk to stare at the beaten man. His face was dead pan and eyes unseeing. “Chara has received several crates in her territory of unmarked bottles, yes?” 

The man nodded dumbly. “It tastes good.”

“Does Chara suspect anything?” 

The answer didn't come right away, like he was trying to think through the fog. “She wants to know where they come from...doesn’t say much to us. We can do…. whateva’.” 

“So she doesn’t care what you do with the alcohol?” Another affirmative nod. 

“She doesn't even care 'bout da drugs.” the man stated dreamily.

A deep frown set into Gaster’s face. “What drugs?” 

“Like...cocaine but better.” 

Frisk looked over to Gaster. Clearly this was news to him and he wasn’t happy with it. “Name them.” The man tried to shrug. “I don’t think he knows.” she whispered. A dull ache had started to form in her head. “Where did they come from?” demanded Gaster. 

Again, the man paused, clearly trying to remember. “A month ago in lil boxes… no two months…. He wasn’t happy.” 

“Who wasn’t?” 

“Mettaton. It’s competition for our stuffs.” 

A wide grin broke out Gaster’s face. “So he did follow her out. Who else left with Chara?” The sharp ache stabbed at Frisk’s mind and she pulled back, crying out. “E-entschuldigung… I can’t..” 

~------~------~

Thwack!

_Somehow it was the man in the chair she hit this time._

_“N-no! I didn’t mean-”_

_Frisk reached out to free him from the chains._

_She was sitting in the chair, watching the light swing above her._

_“I don’t want to! This isn’t what I wanted!”_

Thwack! 

_Her breathing intensified as the light turned red above her._

_"Let me go!"_

_The chains rattled as she shook them, desperate to free herself._

_She was determined to escape the room and the world went red._

"Frisk?"

"Frisk, wake up."

Dazed from the nightmare, Frisk sat up wild eyed frantically reaching up into the air. “No!” Her breath came in ragged gasps as she looked around. Gaster held her almost tenderly, shielding her view from the man in the chair. "All you alright?" 

"I-...." She didn't know. Her head felt like it had been shoved full of rocks and set on fire and she couldn't quite catch her breath. “My head hurts.” 

“You overexerted but the result was marvelous. He’s still in a trance even though you've been out for an hour.” 

“Oh. I hope that’s helpful.” she offered weakly. Every word sent another wave of pain through her head. _'An hour?'_ Passed out in a dark basement with a soon-to-be dead man did nothing to ease her post-nightmare nerves, much less not knowing how much of that was spent in _his_ arms.

“Not particularly. He was quite far down the food chain so very little proved to be valuable but what he did know is useful enough.” Despite the pain, she realized Gaster spoke in past tense about the man, who was still very much alive behind them. "But I don't think that's something you need to worry about. Let's get you upstairs." Frisk did not like how easy it was for him to simply scoop her up and away. She knew the chained man made his choices and this was unfortunately the consequence for doing so, yet her soul pitied him. There was no escape and he was going to die. She tried to get one last glance at the doomed man, to mentally wish him a painless end, but Gaster turned off the light too quick and once more the basement was shrouded in darkness.

Rather than take her to the guest room, he headed straight for the kitchen, setting her down in a chair. "Food will help your head pain. I trust you like eggs?" 

"Yes, thank you." she muttered, leaning into the table, holding her head in her hands. She nodded her thanks when a glass of water and a small pill were set down beside her. The small clock hanging next to the kitchen entrance declared the day to still be young, with it being barely eight in the morning. If the situation in the basement was any indicator on how her day was going to go, Frisk wished to trade places with the man. A sickening feeling rolled around her stomach if this is what Gaster wanted her to do. He did say there were a few others captured as well.

As if he read her mind, Gaster set the small plate of scrambled eggs down in front of her and took the opposite chair before saying, “There are two others which are proving to be just as difficult to question. There is one I'd like you to hypnotize- I believe he’s more informed than the others and I want accurate information- but first how is your head?” Frisk chewed the eggs slowly before replying, “It’s alright. The medicine is helping. Is it… is it about the drugs?” She was a little curious about the situation regarding Chara but hoped having more information about what was wanted would lessen how much magic she needed to use. Frisk had never been so thankful for dim lighting and a quiet house as the food and medicine slowly soothed her pounding head. 

Gaster nodded. “A bit, yes. Moreso I am curious about who Chara took when she left." 

"Like Mettaton?" The name was vaguely familiar to her but couldn't be placed.

"Yes. I highly doubt Asriel is going to offer the information up but if Mettaton left then there's a high probability he took Alphys." There was a small chuckle at Frisk's blank expression. “You really don’t know, do you?” She shook her head. “Well then, let’s start with Alphys. She’s a scientist that was employed with the Dreemurrs. They employ a fair number of humans and thus need stronger fire power to deal with monsters. She’s the reason why Asgore made so much money smuggling weapons. Mettaton is her animatronic creation. Despite her ingenuity, Alphys' lack of ability to command respect and reign in her creation, and her creations lack of respect for anyone, left much to be desired. I am not impressed with either of them.” 

Frisk wanted to know more about the duo but decided later to ask Sans. Something about Gaster’s tone told her that part of the conversation was over. "Are the drugs really important? You looked upset when they were brought up."

He appeared a little unamused she brought it up now. "It's not terribly important, simply competition. We have flooded her territory with a very intoxicating alcohol. The Dreemurrs have flooded her with apparently strong drugs. It's one less thing Asriel has failed to communicate."

"At least her followers are weakened either way."

"That's one way to look at, yes. Except if Chara herself does not imbibe in either, it's all pointless." 

She decided inquiring further would only lead to bad things and finished her small meal in silence as Gaster excused himself to "Go deal with business." She had a fair inkling of what that met. Armed with the knowledge that at least one more man would be hypnotized, Frisk went to the guest room to practice her magic. 

Sweat beaded up on her skin as she stared at the shield. It was no longer pink, but rather a light cherry color. "Oh…" Trying to imagine it pink did nothing to change the color. "Why do I find myself in such colorful situations?" She didn't think the joke was very funny but politely chuckled anyways. What in the world did this mean?

~------~------~------~


	18. Confliction and Complexications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find our heroine determined(mostly) to plot her escape and learn to cook like an adult though not entirely in that order, our villainesses henchmen are easily manipulatable and gave up some of her secrets, and the Brothers slowly start to plot the death of not one, but two!, rival leaders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean if I don't write, the story won't be written? Lol, no it just appears magically on the screen for me. I don't need to use my brain. Or fingers. It. Just. Magically. Appears. *laugh-cry in writer's block* Admittedly, I'm not proofreading as much as what I used to, so please if any errors are noticed, let me know! I haven't watched any movies, or much of anything besides What We Do in the Shadows reruns, so if anyone has old movie suggestions, I'd love to hear them!

~------~------~------~

The color had shifted to a rather pretty magenta in her panic, leaving no sign of the cherry color. _'If the color our magic reflects our soul, why did mine change?!'_ Worriedly Frisk wondered if she did something wrong. The magenta bubble between her hands appeared to glow. She didn’t remember it glowing when the color was pink. Rather than further praciting, she paced about the room nervously, letting the magenta bubble fade away. Should she tell anyone? Was it noticable? Did her soul change? _Could_ souls change?

She didn’t feel any different. ‘ _Maybe this is just because I was touching another person! Yes! Maybe part of this is from his soul!_ ’ Disgust soon set in as she realized that perhaps she absorbed a part of his soul. Why else would the color have changed? She shuddered at the thought. ‘ _Okay maybe not that. Maybe… maybe since magic is emotion based, I’m just too nervous!_ ’ 

What happened in the basement was too much, she knew. 

Feeling the man’s mind break because of her, was too much. 

This wasn't the life Frisk wanted for herself. She wanted to make others happy and dance, and this most definitely did not make anyone happy except those who were bent on hurting others- which unfortunately meant the Skeleton Brothers. 

Which meant Sans.

She tried not to envision Sans taking part in beating the man. The thought hurt terribly when he acted so gentle around her. Frisk settled onto the bed and pulled the blanket close, wondering if perhaps it was wrong to imagine it as him hugging her. Living here was making it hard for her to ignore certain aspects about him.

 _'Why couldn't I push him away?'_ she thought angrily, flopping onto her back. The ceiling offered no answers as she stared up at it, but she knew why. Sans cared. Out of all the men who tried shoving their way into her life, not one ever asked if she was alright after a fight. No one ever tried to protect her. No one ever thought to bring her flowers. She was just the frigid exotic dancer that kept others at arm's length and when pretty words failed to impress her, they went away like everyone else. 

She wished Sans was here now to hug away her pain and immediately berated herself for the thought. _'Stick to the plan! This is just a distraction!'_ It hurt too bad to be a distraction. She knew what he was doing right now- gathering protection money from people who could barely afford it, shaking up struggling businesses, beating men in basements until they broke. All for what? So someone else could plot to take their lives like what was happening to Chara?

With a choked sob, Frisk curled up into a little ball. This wasn't the life she wanted and it was so confusing trying to understand why the color of her soul had changed colors. She missed her grandmama terribly and hugging an urn was not the same as the old woman's gentle embrace, nor did it offer words of guidance and wisdom when beseeched. _'There has to be a way to leave before winter sets in.'_ A train ride across the snow covered countryside didn't sound so bad but if there were any delays, that would be a further drain on her finances. More importantly, it would give the brothers a greater chance of finding her. She needed to be spontaneous, Frisk decided, and leave as soon as it was possible, money be damned, and knew exactly who to call. 

~------~------~

Gaster was unreasonably angered. Logically he knew part of the rage was due to the effect of her magic but hearing the little dancer insulted was maddening and hitting the chained up man was oh so satisfying, nevermind how Asriel was keeping secrets from them. If they didn’t know who was in Chara’s gang, how were they supposed to fight her? ‘ _Those are rather important details you’re leaving out, Asriel._ ’ Gaster thought angrily, hitting the man once more. ‘ _He’s going to have to be dealt with when this is over._ ’ Chara’s territory would have to be divided up anyways and it would be an opportune time to take out two enemies.

After Frisk had passed out he continued questioning the doomed man and determined him to be useless. The only thing he was good for now was to serve as an example of what happens when anyone tries to cross the Skeleton Brothers. He knew just where to dump the body to ensure Chara got the message. They had already made the first strike and this would serve to further drive home the message- the war had begun.

Wiping the blood off his hands, Gaster let his mind wander to Frisk. She had certainly turned out quite useful. Her control was tentative and sporadic but with enough training, she was going to be a decent spy. The hypnotizing was certainly worth focusing on, more so than other abilities. He stared down at the body in disgust. She would have to be kept away from further violence. The attack in the dressing room was too close a call. It would not be hard to shift Frisk to safer places so she could continue to work. 

The alive captive man had watched the fatal beating unfold. Pressed against the wall and wild eyed, he tried to scoot away as Gaster approached but there was nowhere from him to run and the rope binding his hands and feet did not allow for much mobility. "I'd rather not have to deal with a second corpse today. It's all very inconvenient." The man's muffled responses were likely along the lines of him promising to tell Gaster anything. Let him live, he won't say anything to Chara. He'll tell Gaster everything, anything. Just don't kill him.

_'Pathetic.'_ He unchained the dead man, tossing him aside and threw the live one in the chair. "Now it's your turn."

~------~------~

All things considered, Sans was having a good day. The sun was shining, a few birds sang in the trees as he passed by, and best of all, he didn't have to deal with dumping bodies into the harbor. Gaster had assigned someone else to follow behind him and do clean up duty, Sans just needed to make them dead. He felt it was a rather unique experience having such a cheerful day that he made the decision to spare a few people. Some were at the point of the no return with the brothers but playing nice for everyone else certainly had its perks. Like free delicious baked goods. It was a sweet little bakery but it's age showed. The floorboards creaked, the worn wood counter had seen better days but the smells from the kitchen were enticing enough. It looked like the kind of place Frisk might like, with it's faded floral wallpaper and old macrame wall hangings. The aging owners were more than grateful to hand over the choicest of treats to him in the place of money, practically throwing the bag stuffed with the goods at him. Next week he couldn't guarantee the same treatment, but for now he entertained the idea of bringing Frisk to the bakery.

The only problem would be getting her out of the house. He made it a point to pay a visit to a few informants and had at least one piece of good news to bring back to Gaster. Muffet was confirmed to be back in Dreemurr territory and there were no rumors of another magical human. He couldn't figure out why she was keeping Frisk a secret but it worked in their favor. 

As the rose to midday, it started to feel a little too oppressive for Sans’ liking and despite the blizzard ongoing far below, a quick break to see Frisk felt like the perfect lunchtime treat.

Sans regretted leaving topside as soon as he sunk knee deep into the snow. "Are you fuckin’ kidding me?" he grumbled. The small porch was covered in several ice cold feet of snow and given it hadn't already been shoveled away, the task was likely going to fall to him. "Should make Wings do it. Been workin' all damn day." he muttered angrily, kicking it away from the door. Seeing as that plan of attack was quickly going nowhere as the snow steadily fell, and his toes were thoroughly frozen, he teleported to the other side of the door and stomped off the snow off his shoes as a way of announcing he was home. 

"Don't track snow everywhere." Gaster sat, quite warm and dry, in his chair by the fire, reading the paper. "How has the day been so far?" 

"I ain't trackin' snow everywhere." Sans huffed and kicked his wet shoes off. "Muffet's gone for sure. She's been seen with the Dreemurrs. As far as I can tell, there haven't been any rumors about Frisk but I still t'ink she should lay low. Other than that, it's business as usual. Want some cake?"

"Bribing me with food will not get you the rest of the day off." replied Gaster with an amused smile.

"What? Me bribe you? My own brotha? Nah, I just wanted just to share some delicious baked goods cause I love you so." He said with a wave of the bag. He hadn’t considered asking for the rest of the day off but now that it was on the table, it seemed too good to pass up. "Has Paps reported back yet?" He asked. 

"He has not. If he doesn’t return shortly, I want you to go look for him. Asriel failed to notify us that he’s been dumping drugs in Chara’s territory.” 

“We haven't told 'em about the alcohol, Wings. I don't really care what he's smuggled around.” remarked Sans as he made his way to the kitchen. After sinking quite literally into knee deep snow, a warm cup of coffee to have with his goods sounded amazing. The way Sans saw it, the drugs were one more thing that Chara would have to deal with and if it kept her busy, then all the better for them. At the very least, it would disrupt her own supply chain and weaken her financially.

“The alcohol is different. The drugs are just one more thing he’s been keeping from us- along with Chara taking Mettaton when she left.” 

Sans paused, a donut halfway to his mouth. “Eh? Well shit, that would explain their guns the otha’ night! So that means Chara also has Alphys.” The impressiveness of Mettaton was something all the brothers were willing to debate any day, but Alphys’ weapon designs were second to none and created specifically to take down monsters.

“Potentially.” said Gaster, reaching for a treat of his own. “Or they have her designs or something similar enough." 

"Ya know, we could threaten to leave the rat bastard high and dry if he doesn't start being upfront about Chara." After the club fight, they were in too deep to simply leave Asriel to deal with her. It was only a matter of time before she retaliated against the Brothers since the first blow was in their territory. Gaster shook his head. "We can't but this information can be used to our benefit. Next time we'll be better prepared to deal with her cronies." 

Next time was either going to be another ambush or outright attack, by Sans reckoning. So far Chara hadn't been much for planning club attacks but perhaps Mettaton might. Knowing Chara had a number two meant they couldn't rely on her apparent dismissiveness.

Frisk lingered at the kitchen entrance, debating if she should enter or not. She hadn’t heard much of the conversation but Sans’ voice made her pause. A short- and blessedly dreamless- nap had cured her headache and dulled the heartache, and as much as she didn’t want to interrogate the second man, she did want to get it over with. “Did you want me to ask about that?” she asked, entering the kitchen. Judging by the slight look of confusion on Sans’ face, Gaster hadn’t told him about the basement. 

“If you’re feeling you up to it. Is your headache better?” Gaster replied.

She nodded. “It is, thank you. Hallo Sans.” she said cheerfully. 

“Hey Frisk. We’re doin’ what now?” asked Sans, turning back to his brother. 

“Interrogating one of the remaining captives. Frisk’s hypnotism extends outside of her dancing and is proving most useful.” explained Gaster.

"That's, um, great. So you don't have to dance to mess with people?" Sans asked hesitantly.

Frisk shook her head. "No, I just touch them-their head that is- and um.. I don't know how to explain it. It's..." 

"Intuitive. It's intuitive and like everything else, based solely off of her intentions and emotions." Gaster finished for her. He said it so matter-of-factly and whilst Frisk did appreciate that because she couldn’t truly find the words, she hated that her intention to simply hypnotize resulted in mentally crippling a person.

Given the strained smile on Sans’ face and her own discomfort, Frisk thought it prudent to change the topic. “Are those donuts?” she asked, peering at the bag. _‘So much eating like an adult.’_ If possible, she vowed to try again at making a proper dinner. Cooking would be a nice distraction from her thoughts. 

“Yea, go ahead and have some- what do you mean interroga-”

“THAT LITTLE _SHIT_ IS LYING ABOUT THE SITUATION!” yelled Papyrus bursting through the door. Without even bothering to take off his shoes, he stomped dirt and snow all the way across the floor to the kitchen. 

“You’re cleaning that up.” said Gaster flatly.

“Papyrus! Language!” gasped Sans in a faux shocked tone. 

For a whole second Papyrus stopped his charge to glare down at his brothers. “YOU ARE NOT ONE TO TALK ABOUT LANGUAGE SANS AND YES I WILL DEAL WITH THE SNOW. Ah, Miss Frisk, my pardons.” The dynamic between the brothers never ceased to amuse her as she watched them, or rather looked up at them. Though Sans was the height of Slims, both Papyrus and Gaster towered over her. She was tempted to stand on the counter just to feel more part of the conversation. “It’s alright, would you like a donut?” she offered, gesturing to the bag of baked goods Sans had set on the table. Food so far appeared to be the key to distracting the brothers and Papyrus was no exception. “Yes, I would not mind, is that a little cake? AS I WAS SAYING! We were planting the boxes on the border and guess who came running around the corner?” Without bothering to pause long enough for anyone to answer, Papyrus carried on. “Several people from the Dreemurrs! They nearly attacked _us_! I demanded to know what they were doing and they were completely clueless about the truce we had with Asriel. I understand he is going behind his father’s back, but I’m wondering if he has his own separate faction.” 

As before, both Sans and Papyrus looked to Gaster for an answer. The eldest brother mulled this information over, his face impassive and unknowable. “That is something we must consider, yes.” he said after a moment. Sans and Papyrus knew that was code for him never considering the possibility that Asriel had cultivated his gang within Asgore’s gang. It was always assumed that he would either kill Asgore himself or wait for the old man to retire, whichever he had the patience for. 

“This is another reason why we should throw him at Chara.” grumbled Sans. “He’s been so fuckin’ vague about the details I wouldn’t be surprised if this was all trick to get us to fight with Chara so he could come in steal _our_ territory. And more importantly if we’re fuckin’ with Chara by sending in the alcohol, who is sending the drugs to compete with her- Asriel or Asgore?” 

“Whoever is trying to compete with her in her own territory, I don’t believe that effects the situation much.” said Gaster, dismissively. “That simply cripples part of her finances and some of her cronies. I don’t doubt Asriel’ll eventually try to usurp us in the process of removing Chara, but regardless, she poses a threat to us all. If word gets out about her soul eating, we'll all be facing the same consequences.” 

“There’s more than that. Before returning home, I visited several contacts- no one has heard anything about the club. Chara has not acknowledged that some of her more vocal supporters are suddenly so quiet. There’s been no mention of the dumped bodies, no mention of any retaliation. At this point is she even a threat to us?” asked Papyrus, who seemed quite put off they were being so ignored. 

“She took Mettaton with her. Even if Chara refuses to acknowledge what happened, she has a lieutenant who might. Remember the note from the club? Mettaton at least is taking an active role in her gang.” explained Gaster. 

Frisk still wasn’t quite certain what had happened at the club beyond the fight nor the purpose of it, and found herself a bit lost in the conversation. ‘ _Maybe I could sneak back up to the room.. Hm.. too bad Papyrus is blocking is the doorway. I don’t think I should be listening to any of this._ ’ She had always assumed they knew what happened with Chara. The whisperings she heard at clubs mentioned a falling out of sorts but the details were so vague and she had never heard of Mettaton or Alphys until today. She nibbled away at another donut, wondering if anyone would notice she nabbed the last mini cake. ‘ _I think i just need more sweets to feel normal again._ ’

“We still have another day until the supposed meeting. The note did contain the address so it won’t be hard to find.” remarked Papyrus.

“The address is on the border of the Dreemurr’s and Chara’s territory. It’s too big a risk. If Asriel is also plotting against us, that would be the moment to strike.” explained Gaster. Taking down Mettaton would be a huge blow against Chara but most certainly would provoke a response from her and depending on how Asriel decided to play it, they could find themselves fighting on two sides. As eager as he was to move forward with the plans to end Chara’s reign, Mettaton would not be alone and the outcome of that fight could leave them crippled as much as Chara. Though Gaster was more worried about Asgore taking notice. The fellow gang leader would likely rally his entire force against them, regardless of what his son had planned. Asgore himself was slow to move but did not take attacks in his territory lightly, nevermind how badly he wanted downtown from the Brothers, it was a situation Gaster was not willing to provoke. “No, it’s better we plan our next move. For now things will continue as normal.” he continued. 

As far as Frisk could tell, that ended the conversation but she was still curious. “Does.. does anyone actually know what happened with Chara?” she ventured to voice. The silence in the room was deafening. 

“We do not. For obvious reasons, Chara was kept hidden away after the publicity stunt.” Gaster explained. Frisk understood Chara was adopted- obviously two monsters do not just pop a human child- but “Publicity stunt?” she asked. Her confusion must’ve been quite confusing to the brothers who each bore an incredulous look on their faces, because Papyrus then asked, “Do you not read the papers, Miss Frisk? I understand it was long ago but it was all very public.” 

“Um, how long ago?” she asked sheepishly.

“This would’ve been 17 years ago.” he stated matter-of-factly.

For his sake, Frisk tried not to giggle. Whilst monsters did age a bit quicker than humans, surely he couldn’t believe her to be reading newspapers at such a young age! “I was seven years old then and wasn’t even in the country!” It all seemed so funny until she remembered her parents. They longed to return home and missed family terribly. She was old enough to remember the fear of leaving. _‘Mama! I don’t speak German! No one will understand me!’_ Her fears were for naught as most of the cousins spoke English well enough, though her German remained rather tentative at best. The memory was quickly shoved aside in favor of the current issue. It was bad enough she was staying in a house so similar to her cousins, she didn’t need to deal with more memories of what was.

Either he was poor at reading facial expressions or simply did not notice the drop in her smile, Papyrus pressed on. “I didn’t know you traveled! Where did you go?” he asked excitedly at the same time Sans loudly exclaimed, “So Asgore thought it was a great idea to start playing the public for sympathy and to improve his image or some shit, and he picked up some orphan kid and adopted her.” Papyrus glared at him but Sans continued on. He recognized that pained look on her face, even if it lasted for only a second. “The random kid turned out to be Chara and he paraded her around for awhile to prove what a good guy he is, nevermind the mountain of bodies of him, and that lasted until she started showing off her magic. Then after that, no one really heard anything about her until she decided to split and form her own gang last year. I kinda forgot she even existed for a while there. No one talked about her.”

“To put it simply, yes. Adopting Chara was a publicity stunt.” Gaster added. “Asgore has slowly been pushing his way into politics and he thought adopting a human child would better his image. From the little I have heard, she’s as every bit his daughter as if Toriel had actually given birth to her.” Gaster nearly spat the last part out and if Asriel’s displayed underhandedness was any indication, that was not a good thing. “Surely someone has to know what happened.” said Frisk. Despite the very real danger, the mystery of it all intrigued her. “Especially if others followed her, wouldn't someone have let slip why she left?” Running away from a criminal lifestyle was one thing, running away and starting a brutal rival gang was another and not something Frisk could understand. 

“You would think so, but nah. Despite all her crazy behavior, Chara’s been as silent as her ex-family.” replied Sans. “Whateva’ happened, both sides are taking it very personally.”

“Which is all the more reason for us to gather as much information as possible. Asriel is not forthcoming on any level, so Frisk, if you don’t mind. There is one more person I’d like you to hypnotize. I believe he’ll be a bit more cooperative than the last.”

“Are you going to dance?” asked Papyrus. 

‘ _Funny how Sans brought that up too._ ’ Frisk thought. “No, I don’t have to dance to that.” She determinedly ignored looking at Sans. As much as he was trying to hide his emotions about it, she knew he disapproved but in front his brothers, not much could be said. 

Despite her being the one who brought it up to begin with, Frisk swallowed back her nervousness. ‘ _Just get it over with. I… I have a better idea of what I’m asking so it won’t be so bad._ ’ She tried mentally to console herself. Both Sans and Papyrus followed them down to the basement. Sans’ eyes were practically boring holes into the back of her head. ‘ _Please don’t be upset, I don’t want to do this either._ ’ 

Unlike the last time, and thankfully so, this particular prisoner appeared to be in much better shape, though his eyes did widen frightfully so when he saw the skeletons march down the stairs. His gaze trailed after Gaster and Frisk morbidly wondered just what exactly had happened after she left.

Frisk pitied him, despite it all, just like that last man. Logically she knew they had both made the decision to follow Chara and this was to be the consequence for their action for doing so. It didn’t help her feel any better for her part in this. Unlike before, Frisk did not kneel before the bound man, instead choosing to stand before him. ‘ _Just stay in control. It’s like with Muffett- I am in control of the conversation._ ’ she thought determinedly. 

She placed her hands on the side of his head, imaging a _pink_ \- she was afraid of seeing a cherry colored glow and thankfully it was a pink, albeit closer the earlier magenta color- glow around her hands. “You know what we’re asking. Who else is with Chara besides Mettaton?” she asked as firmly as she could muster. 

She wondered if this was perhaps painful on his end, as the man’s face contorted from bewilderment to anger to fear. “Don’t try fighting me. Just talk. You won’t be hurt.” she said quietly. ‘ _Please just talk. I don’t want to hurt you._ ’ Despite her attempt to be gentle, he still fought against her, even gritting out. “G-get outta my head!” Out of the corner of her eye, Frisk could see the brother’s watching in curiosity and she wondered what they thought of this. The dark pink shifted into a magenta glow around where her fingers met his skin and she could almost hear his mind snapping under her touch. Silently she pleaded that no one else had noticed the color change.

“Just _talk_ .” With the final word, she could hear a snap as his face glazed over. The sound nearly jolted her away but she was afraid of having to restart the whole process. This was quicker than before and she wanted to flee as soon as possible. Given none of the brothers had a reaction to the sound, it must’ve been something only she heard. She was both relieved there was no physical injury and horrified that maybe she really was in his mind. ‘ _Just how far can I go with this?_ ’ 

The man slumped against the bonds. Frisk wondered vaguely if maybe she should just start dancing next time. Maybe that would be easier than this. She could put everyone in a trance and run away and not anyone ever again. “Um, I think… he’s.. What do you want to ask him?” she asked, looking over to Gaster. The ache had started behind her eyes but it wasn’t as sharp as before. 

He approached the man, staring down at him. “Is Alphys with Chara?” 

The man dazedly tried to look up, his eyes unfocused. He slurred out, “I dunno...who..”

“Did Chara take Alphys with her when she left the Dreemurrs?” Gaster rephrased. The only downside to Frisk doing this was so far the men appeared to barely comprehend anything asked of them.

“No..I don’t thin’ so... she has papers from..’er.” His head lolled to and fro as he spoke, as if the action would help get the words out. She wished this didn’t effect them so terribly. _‘Why can’t this be like dancing?’_ Of course she wasn’t consciously aware she’d been charming people for years. With her dancing now, would it always be hypnotizing? She had so many questions but the man between her hands kept her mind focused on the present. Thinking about how altered her life was now was too distracting. 

“What papers does Chara have from Alphys?” Gaster’s impatience was thinly veiled. 

“Lotsa papers.” 

“What kind of papers?”

“Lotsa...papers…”

“Let’s try something else.” said Gaster with a huff. “What about the drugs? Is Mettaton truly upset by them?”

The man had more of a reaction to the question. “H-he’s angry. It’s compe-...competition for stuffs. No good..” the man’s face screwed up like he too was upset. 

“Is there any word from either Chara or Mettaton about the alcohol?”

For a long moment, the man said nothing, his mouth opening and closing several times before he stammered out, “Th-they don’t c-care. Not c-competi-ition. Do what we w-w-want with it.” 

“Perfect. So they’re only watching what the Dreemurrs are doing. Frisk, are you alright?” 

She was thankful he said something. The ache had grown and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it up and stated as much. 

“We have all we need from him. It’s alright to stop.” 

The pain did not immediately go away with the magic but neither did it set into a sharp headache like before. Frisk stumbled back from him, almost falling to the ground. With the magic over, she could truly see her handy work. The man looked paler, his movement slow and jerky, and eyes glazed over as if drunk. A small line of dribble started from the corner of his mouth, which he couldn’t seem to quite close. Frisk was frightened by what she had done. ‘ _I truly did break him!_ ’ Her breath came in short gasps as she stared almost as wide eyed as her victim.

“Hey now, let’s get you upstairs. You got this, Wings?” asked Sans, coming to Frisk’s side. She had that frightened rabbit look again and he couldn’t bear to see her so sad or scared. 

Gaster nodded. “We can take it from here. The effect will continue to linger.”

Sans wanted to scoop her up and away from all this. She deserved to be somewhere safe, where she could dance, and not worry about the whole mess they found themselves in but in front of his brothers, he couldn’t move too fast. He couldn’t pull her close and hide her away. “Do you need somethin’ for your head?” he asked softly. She nodded. “Please.” Her voice sounded too small by his estimate. He guided the dazed Frisk gently up to the guest room sitting her on the bed. "I'll be back with a pain killer. You stay right here." He kissed her forehead. 

_'Not like I can go anywhere.'_ she thought bitterly, flopping back against the bed. She let the silence of the room overtake her thoughts, preferring that over anything her mind conjured up. ‘ _It’s like a dream. A horrible, horrible dream._ ’ Her gaze turned over the window, overlooking the snow covered forest. She once heard freezing to death was falling asleep. 

The sound of Sans’ heavy footfalls up the stairs brought Frisk out of her silence meditation and she sat up to greet him. “Here ya go.” he said with a forced cheerfulness, handing over a small cup and a little pill. 

“Are you going to be alright after that?” He sat next to her on the bed and draped an arm around her. He wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say or not. This was something he never wanted her to see and part of him was angry at Gaster for this. ‘ _She’s going to cry. I just know it. Fucking Hell, Wings!_ ’ A tired resignation set in. There wasn’t much to be done about it now. Not yet at least. 

“Can souls change?” she blurted out. 

He stammered over his response. “I uh, guess so. Sometimes…. It’s not really a _normal_ thing- hey are you alright?” Frisk hated how readily she cried in front of him and furiously wiped the tears away. 

“Yes. I think.. I think I’m just tired.” Her tone was pleading, wanting him to stay, to go, to either save her or let her leave. Sans wasn’t convinced but didn’t press the issue with her. He also didn’t have the time he wanted to talk with her. Gaster would be expecting him back to go over what was learned, and to push him back to the surface. “Well should you need anything, you know where to find me.” he murmured. Frisk nodded her acknowledgment. With a final kiss to her forehead once more, Sans said, “I’ll be back later.” 

~------~------~

Frisk couldn’t bear to be around anyone. Thankfully for dinner, the house appeared to be empty once more. Cracking open a cookbook she chose to hone her newfound spaghetti making skill. ‘ _I probably should make enough for them too._ ’ Nothing had been said to her but the meal she made the night prior was entirely gone. ‘ _Damn bachelors. I guess finishing all the food is their way of saying thank you._ ’ she thought with a chuckle. Letting herself finally unwind from crying alone for the rest of the day, she propped the book up on the counter and got to work. As the noodles boiled, she sat at the table staring out the adjacent living room window. The blizzard had finally abated after pouring out snow all day. It was so peaceful and quiet. 

She ate her dinner alone in the kitchen, happily swinging her feet in the much too large chair. Just to see if she could, Frisk tried to make her fork float but levitation appeared to be outside the realm of her abilities. She did manage to succeed in creating a magenta colored bubble around it though and simply chalked the color change up to growing stronger with her magic. ‘ _The cherry color had to be a fluke._ ’ is what she told herself. She didn’t mind the magenta color so much anymore.

Despite the weariness in her bones, sleep eluded her. Frisk tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable and resolved to practice dancing. With no music to guide her, she let her body flow whichever direction it wanted, stretching her arms outside, gesturing to the empty space. ‘ _I miss being on stage._ ’ She missed the music and the lights, the roaring applause she always received. ‘ _After I am done running away, I am going to settle into a nice club where there are no gangsters._ ’ she resolved with a spin. ‘ _Then when I tire of that, I shall open my very own studio and teach others how to dance._ ’ She would only use her magic to make the audience happy. No one would be hypnotized or forced to say things against their will. She would wash herself clean of all this on the West coast beaches and enjoy nothing but sunshine. ‘ _And be all alone._ ’ Suddenly all her feelings of lightheartedness slipped away, leaving her feeling as cold as the forest outside. 

Lost in a quiet mournful reverie, she didn’t notice Sans enter the run until his arms were around her. “What’re you doing up, darlin’?” he half mumbled, half asked, pressing his face into her hair. 

“Watching the snow. I couldn’t sleep.” She longed to ask his thoughts and decided to be bold. “How was your day?” 

With huff, Sans scooped her up and set her bed. She pressed a hand to her to stifle the embarrassed giggles. “It’s much betta’ now.” he said sleepily. 

“Where’d you get the treats from earlier? They were really good! And did you see dinner? I had it in the refrigerator again but I think spaghetti tastes better cold.” To her ears this sounded like normal couple chatter and she desperately wanted him to say something normal back. No talks of Chara or Asriel, or smuggling things around or killing people. Just normal.

He nuzzled his head against her neck, wrapping her up in both the blanket and his arms. “Some little bakery I found. They might be closin’ though… and yea.” He yawned. “Saw dinner. Ate it all.” 

“Please tell me you left some from your brothers!” she said in mock despair and snuggled up to him, feeling secure once more.

“Bah! They can starve.” he smirked, then quickly added, “They had some too. I think your spaghetti is better than Paps but don’t tell ‘em I said so.” 

“Is that who bought the cook books? I want to copy some recipes, they’re really good.” In spite of her earlier fears and worries, she felt happy laying next to him. Everything melted away from her and for a moment she could pretend it was normal. “Are you…. Are you going to be busy tomorrow?” It was a question she almost hated to ask. She didn’t want anything specific, just an answer.

Instead he shrugged. “Depends… still have to get up early though. I think Wings found a place for ya… have to check it out.” he ended with another yawn. 

“I can get up with you.” she offered. She could make coffee and pancakes and….. Wait for him to get back so they could play distant once more. So she could hear more terrible secrets about what truly happened in the city. 

“Look, I know it’s late,” Sans started. “Are you alright? I know this isn’t entirely…” The words escaped him as he struggled to find the right things to say and held his beloved Frisk tighter in case the wrong words came out and she tried to leave. “This isn’t entirely what you signed up for.” She wasn’t looking at him and he tried not to panic. “I’m sorry.” he whispered. The words did not need to be said but he knew she was hurting. He could practically feel it, see it in her every move. 

She wanted to tell Sans truthfully, to spill out all her fears and worries to him. “Yes, I’m alright.” Frisk couldn’t meet his gaze. She didn’t want him to see the plan she was formulating, to even hint that she wanted to leave. For now, Frisk just wanted to pretend that everything truly was alright.

_There was no sound as the corner of the suitcase connected with his skull._

_She stared horrified at what she had done._

_“Oh god.”_

_It felt like the world around her was cold and frozen._

_She struggled to pull back with the next hit and fell back into the chair._

_“No!”_

The scream came out so quiet as she jolted awake. Her hands, reaching forward, glowed magenta. In the dim light, Sans was nowhere to be found but she could hear his and probably Papyrus’ footsteps as they headed downstairs. She pulled her knees up to her chest and waited.

~------~------~------~

Bonus: Frisk Inspo Board :D

Middle Pic is Ruth St. Denis, the rest are Jobyna Ralston

Please don't judge too hard. I saved it as a jpeg and that was a terrible idea.

Anywho! My vision of Frisk and a chibi Frisk!


	19. Fake Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the end in sight, our heroine's plan is disrupted in the the worst(or at least as she imagines it) way possible. A likeable(but also slightly not) character returns to the scene and we are introduced to a domineering figure in this story- his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big sister advice: Take a personal finance class and Philosophy 101. They are great electives and equally helpful in life. This probably could've been split into two chapters but no. So yea. Long chapter and very busy. Lots of plot happened and also I am slightly brain dead. Terribly sorry for any grammatical mistakes (><)

~------~------~------~

Frisk nervously spun the phone cord around her finger. “Don’t tell me there was another fight.” she muttered. She didn’t have Suta’s number, just the clubs and had been mentally kicking herself over that all day, especially since she had already called earlier in the day and had been met with no response. It wasn’t until she was on the verge of giving up, did someone finally answer. 

“Hello! If you’re calling to reserve a party, we’re all booked up so don’t bother. Who’s speaking?” came the loud fast talking voice of the owner, Ben. 

“Hallo, I’m not sure if you remember me. I um… I’m a belly dancer and performed there about two-ish weeks ago… Um, Frisk. Is Suta there?” She couldn’t move the phone fast enough away from her ear as Ben shrieked out the musician’s name. “Give ‘em a minute.” was the much quieter response to her. Frisk let out the breath she’d been holding in since dialing the number, though her stomach remained twisted up in knots. 

"This is Suta." 

For a wild moment Frisk couldn’t find her voice, fearing that perhaps he had forgotten about her. "Hallo it's-" 

"Frisk?" For a second time she held the phone away from her ear. With a nervous laugh, she responded, "Yes, tis I." 

"I didn't know how to reach you. Are you alright? Where are you? What happened? I need to tell you, we're leaving next week." Frisk could barely keep up with the stream of words but her eyes lit up at the last part. "That's ahm, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” she said quickly, hardly believing her luck. “Can we meet somewhere? Please?" 

“Absolutely! Is this evening good? Are you in trouble?" Suta’s voice lowered at the last part, almost conspiratorially. Frisk smiled and sighed, resting back against the wall. 

"No, no, I’m alright and yes, this evening is good. Where do you want to meet?" Writing down the address to a little cafe, it was thankfully one she already knew of, having explored the new neighborhood when she first moved in. She wasn’t quite sure where she was located in regards to the club but it must not have been far since Suta was likely to walk to it. They said their goodbyes and Frisk hung up feeling the lightest she had felt in a long while. ‘ _I can’t believe it! This is really happening!_ ’ She would need to pack- ‘ _Oh what do I bring?_ ’- to buy a train ticket, to get it all planned out with Suta. With a tired huff, she turned back to the rest of the little studio and her eyes meant the urn sitting in the middle of the floor. It was the only thing she had bothered to unpack. 

The remainder of her time with the brothers had thankfully passed uneventfully and she spent most of it sequestered away in the guest room, working on controlling her magic. The few books Gaster loaned her stated that souls changed color when faced with grave trauma, stress, and actions so opposite of the nature of their soul, that it was corrupted. Having some sort of explanation was a comfort to Frisk, who was self-aware enough to realize where the trigger was- the nightmares had yet to cease. It hadn’t been easy, spending nights in Sans arms, having her bad dreams soothed, and lying about how she was feeling. He was still a sore spot in her heart and the only thing that gave pause to her plans. There was always a nagging _“But Sans…”_ that burned in the back of her mind when she thought of running away, and she mused mayhaps he had magically charmed _her_. With a heavy sigh, she refocused to the meeting and the urn, eyeing the latter mournfully. 

Her plan was to pack only the costume suitcase and she had spent her spare time mastering the art of rolling her clothes very, very tightly. Unless she wanted to spend precious money buying a bigger suitcase, and potentially drawing attention to herself, the urn couldn’t be packed. Especially after what happened with Muffet, she was certain that Gaster had people watching her. She hadn’t been able to spot anyone the few times she’d been out but did not want to take any chances. Frisk could’ve kicked the damn thing down the stairs after what happened but it provided her with a good excuse to be walking around the city with a suitcase. It did contain her costume after all, so she was just taking it to be dry cleaned. Nothing suspicious about that.

The realization she would have to let the ashes go had struck painfully, tearing open the scar on her heart and filling it with grief anew. She was thankful Sans hadn’t been able to visit at night since moving. The solitude had been needed as she clutched the urn and sobbed in those quiet, hidden moments. Ideally, she would’ve taken the ashes to the countryside and spread them in a beautiful garden but the reality of her situation was not ideal and that left her with only the ocean. It was not that Frisk didn’t love the ocean, quite the contrary, but the idea of going down to the fishing wharf was more than a little nerve wracking. It didn’t have the same reputation as the shipyard, where bodies were routinely disposed of, but in Frisk’s eyes there was still a comparison to be made about dumping the ashes into the ocean. Guilt had risen up to mingle with the grief over the loss of her last family member, and she felt as though it was a betrayal that she could not take the remains with her. “I’m sorry, grandmama.” she whispered, fighting back the tears. Frisk ran her fingers through her hair and steadied herself with a shaky breath. First things first, she needed to see Suta.

The tap on the window was entirely unexpected and Frisk nearly jumped out of her skin as she walked by it. Suta sheepishly grinned and waved at her. She tried to glare but couldn’t hide her smile and rushed into the cafe. At any other time, the crowd and noise of the cafe would’ve felt overwhelming, but now Frisk was thankful for it. She felt hidden amongst the patrons, as they filtered in and out, meeting friends, seeking shelter from the sun, and for some, reluctantly returning to the hot busy sidewalk. 

“Suta! Hallo!” she called out, making her way to the musician.

“Long time no see, how’ve you been?” he replied, standing up to meet her with a hug. It was an odd feeling, being so close to another person but she happily returned it.

“I’ve been good. How are you? I know this is all rather sudden and but I...” she bit her lip, feeling a little foolish given the last time he asked her to leave she had said no. “But I-”

“Yes.” Was his confident interjection.

“What?” 

“Yes.” he repeated. “You can come with us.”

Everything came tumbling out at once. “When? Are you still going west? Is the whole band- what time- when?” She couldn’t breathe but not out of panic. It was simply too good to be true. Suta simply sat there smiling, and Frisk wondered if he knew all along she’d eventually ask him. “Next Wednesday at noon. At the only train station in town and I can get you a ticket,” he waved away her protests and continued, “And yes, the whole band is sick of this shit so we're heading all the way to the west coast." 

Frisk rubbed her face, letting out a helpless laugh. “I am so sick of this too.” she muttered. “Oh! I forgot to ask, is everyone alright?” 

He paused for a moment, staring out the window, and Frisk started to worry that mayhaps she said the wrong thing when he replied, “Yea. We’re good. We were able to bar the door and no one thought to use the stage entrance.” Suta met her eyes and asked, “And you? You good?” 

It was Frisk’s turn to be quiet and she nervously fumbled with her nails. ‘ _I was attacked and killed a man. Then I was taken away and hypnotized two people but oops, it demolished their minds because I have barely any control over my own magic, but don’t tell anyone!_ ’ She shrugged and forced a smile. “I’m good. No one got into the dressing room on my side either.” Suta pursed his lips but didn’t pursue the conversation further. Frisk knew he didn’t believe her. “Well that’s good. Truth be told I don’t really want to order anything. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to meet and I gotta get back to the club. Are you going to be alright until next week? You’re somewhere safe?” She couldn’t help but think of Sans. It’d become a nightly routine with him, asking if she was doing alright. Like with Suta, she’d simply smiled and shrugged his concerns off. 

“I’ll be alright. Do you want my number just in case you need to reach me? I need yours too, by the way. I feel like calling the club probably isn’t the best idea.” 

“Yea, I’ll take it. I’ll give you a call the morning of. You take care of yourself, alright?” He pulled out a business card and ripped it in half, giving her the part with his number and she wrote her downs on the other half. 

“I’ll will. You take care of yourself too.” 

They left the cafe together, heading in opposite directions. With a final wave goodbye and skip in her step, Frisk felt like she was finally doing something right for herself. The day, though halfway over, grew brighter and brighter, and all the flowers looked particularly vibrant to her. She silently vowed that if she did not become a dance teacher, she would become a florist.

~------~------~

It had been mere happenstance that Sans spotted Frisk as she entered the bustling cafe. He had been coming from the opposite direction on the other side of the street and was going to run up to her until she had disappeared into the building and reappeared next to a window. Her visiting a cafe wasn't so unusual but what Sans really didn't like was _his_ Frisk seated across the table from another man. The man evoked a faint memory from Ben's club and Sans assumed him to be part of the band she practiced with. Regardless, he did not like seeing her alone with him. 

Not wanting to risk getting caught, and to get away from the jostling sidewalk crowd, he quickly dodged into an alleyway across from the little cafe so he could watch the duo. Whatever was being said, he couldn't tell but she appeared excited and animated. He hadn't seen her like that in awhile. A dark flicker jealousy appeared as he watched. It was not long before they emerged and departed in opposite directions, Frisk waving quite cheerfully at the other human. His eyes trailed after her as she left. He could make a few guesses as to why they met. Since the man was from the club, they were likely talking about something dance related. It wasn’t exactly like she _couldn’t_ work elsewhere in between jobs for them. Sans took out a cigar and lit it, measuring out how much trouble it would be to pursue the man. He leaned against the wall staring at the crimson smoke as it curled upward and away. ' _She doesn't have to know… I could rough him up a bit._ ' The thought was tempting. She didn’t need to go through other people if she wanted to dance on the side and it was just as well if she didn’t try to get another job. 

Ultimately, Sans decided against chasing after whoever the man was. If anything came out of the conversation, he’d deal with it later. With the little diversion over, it was back to work. He’d see Frisk later and figure out what was going on.

~------~------~

With the day moving so peacefully along, it seemed quite inevitable to Frisk that something had to ruin it. There was plenty of time left in the day to spread the ashes in the ocean. The day did not look so bright as the thought struck. 

Home was only a few more blocks away and it would be no hassle to grab the urn.

There was not a sudden magical shortage of taxis to take her to the fishing wharf. 

It’d be better to get it over with. One less thing to worry about. One less thing to weigh her down, to keep her tied to the city.

She lowered her gaze to the sidewalk, all her joy melting away. ‘ _It’s for the best. Truly it is. It’s not like I’m dumping her on the side of the road._ ’ she rationalized. Guilt ate away at her, following her steps like a horrid shadow. She always wanted to take her beloved grandmother away from the city, not leave her behind.

She carefully pulled open the apartment door, as if to sneak in, before entering. She wondered vaguely if perhaps Sans was there but she hadn’t heard from any of the brothers since moving in. A surprise visit might make her lose her nerve. The urn remained in the same place where it’d been left. Frisk sat in front of the urn, biting her lip and told herself this was the right thing to do. The words felt hollow and she felt defeated. “Grandmama, you won’t be mad at me?” she whispered. With no answer forthcoming, she buried her face in her hands, taking in huge gulps of air. “I have to leave and I can’t take you with me. The best I can do is take you to the ocean.” she reasoned out. “It won’t be like a proper visit but at least…” she trailed off, wiping away her tears. “It’s something. We always loved the ocean.” 

With a mournful reverence she picked up the urn.

The taxi driver blissfully chatted away, though if it was for Frisk’s benefit or his own, she wasn’t sure. Tears slipped past her stoicism on the drive to the fishing wharf. She thought it was sweet when he asked if she wanted him to wait for her. “This might take a moment.” she tried to explain but the driver simply shrugged and replied it was time for a lunch break anyways. On such a lovely summer day, there were hardly any boats around and she walked until she reached the end of a boat dock. Staring down at the murky water below, Frisk sat, letting her legs dangle over. The water was just barely out of reach though a light mist from waves could be felt as they lazily rolled by. The urn sat like a rock on her lap and Frisk wondered if it would be heavy enough to drag her down to the bottom too. “This is it, Grandmama.” She pulled her legs up, crossing them tightly. With a deep breath and small prayer, the lid tumbled off into the water followed by a trail of ash. 

The urn felt so light in her hands and a cursory glance into it verified its emptiness. Frisk stared blankly at it before tossing it into the water. Soon enough it too was gone, swept away by the waves. She laid down, staring out at the ocean, trying to summon a happy memory of her grandmother but none were forthcoming.

The ache in her heart did not go away but oddly enough, she couldn't cry. Her mind felt fuzzy and thoughts near intangible. ' _I don't ever want to feel like this again._ ' It was so miserable losing people she loved. "I am never going to feel like this again." she announced, trying very hard to sound strong. "I am never. I am going to be happy." Her voice cracked with the declaration and feeling strangely light headed, decided it was simply too hot outside and she needed to go home. 

As before the taxi driver chatted away but he sounded so distant to Frisk. She rested her head against the window, watching the world pass by in a blur. She wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or sad when all too quickly she was back in the studio. It felt strangely empty and it hurt how much the urn was relied upon as a silent companion. 

“I just need some noise.” she muttered, walking over to the record player. She picked out her favorite record and decided maybe it would also be best to practice dancing. Between the music and practicing her magic and dancing, there wouldn’t be time to feel so blue. ‘ _I just need to keep busy and it’ll be Wednesday in no time!_ ’ 

As she settled into position, Frisk imagined taking all her magic into her hands. One of the books she read had recommended for beginners to practice simply manifesting magic. It hadn’t said anything about picturing it as a bubble(much less dancing whilst doing so) but she wasn’t sure how else to make it appear. She hadn’t intended on hypnotizing the audience at the club and couldn’t very much teach students how to dance if everyone was incapacitated. ‘ _That’s right. I’m leaving and I’m going to become a dance teacher. I’ll have my own studio and won’t be dancing in skeevy clubs._ ’ As she swayed back and forth, twisting her arms overhead, a faint bubble appeared. For a brief moment she thought it was pink again but the bright cherry color fully formed with each twist and twirl of her hands. Understanding why the color of souls changed helped to alleviate the stress of the mystery but it didn’t make her feel any better. She’d rather not encounter situations that changed the color of her soul. It’d be such a relief with the nightmare was over and her magic once appeared pink.

Having spent three days prior doing nothing but practicing, her control was much stronger and it was well into an hour of dancing and maintaining the bubble before the pain started behind her eyes. By that point her legs were aching just as much and it seemed like a good time to stop. Letting the magic dissipate and turning off the record player, it was a long moment before Frisk stood back up, deciding it was time to take a bath. 

As the day crawled into night, she laid in her bed, too tired to do much more but too energetic to fall asleep. Mostly, there was a feeling of unending melancholy that couldn’t quite be shaken off. With no care to listen to music, she’d opened the window all the way, letting the noise and air from the street below fill the apartment. The sounds of cars rushing past and hum people below overtook her thoughts as she gazed through half closed eyes at the ceiling. She hadn’t felt so empty since her parents died but her grandmother had been there, offering comfort and words of wisdom. She remembered burying her head against the frail old woman and feeling safe. It felt like a million years had passed since spring and she wondered idly if someday this too would be like a distant half forgotten memory. In spite of her desire to leave, she wished Sans was around to hold her. It wasn’t something she could quite pick out about him, but he had a way of taking away all her pain and anxiety. 

And just as she wished it, he appeared. Sans blinked, taking his time to adjust to the dim light in the apartment before his eyes settled on her, half buried beneath a blanket and clutching onto a pillow. "Hey there pretty lady." he said with a smirk. 

"Well hallo, handsome sir." She returned with a smile, in a vain attempt to push back against the guilt she felt. ‘ _Why am I doing this? He’s going to be so hurt when I’m gone._ ’ As Frisk sat up, it was as if all her emotions suddenly rushed back at once. ‘ _Oh who I am kidding?_ I’m _going to be so hurt!_ ’ She hated how easily she cried in front of him. 

“I’m sorry.” she muttered through the tears as Sans immediately rushed to her side, taking her into his arms, and cradling her.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” He felt frantic. He didn’t follow her home, what if something happened? Why else would she be crying like this? His mind flickered back to the cafe. “Frisk di-”

“I-I got rid of her ashes! Oh God, that sounds so awful. I went to the fishing wharf. I thought.. I thought-” Breathing was a near impossible task and the words spilled out. “I went to the fishing wharf because I thought it was time to spread her ashes and I didn’t know where else to go! It’s not like I can just ship them out to some flower field for her and we did love the ocean and I thought it fitting because we traveled so much.” Her wide, tear stained eyes met his. “That was right, right? It wasn’t bad?” 

Whilst he was immensely relieved nothing had happened to her, this was a conversation he was not equipped to handle. “Oh jeez, I mean um, sure.” Sans took a short breath and sat beside her, keeping an arm firmly wrapped around her. She pulled her knees up to her chin, looking as small and sad as could be. “Ah, I’m not the best at this, but it’s not like she would want you to be upset foreva’, ya know?” It occurred to him, he didn’t actually know much about her grandmother. “You said she liked the ocean?” Frisk nodded. “Well tell me about it.” 

Much to Sans’ relief, the question halted her tears as her mind filtered through memories, stretching back into the hidden corners of her mind, where she barely dared to tread. It was so hard to think back to times where she had a complete family and life was safe and happy. Even the winter felt so bright when she had cousins to play with and tease. They were all thoughts she had buried away, too afraid to risk looking at in case her heart shattered again. But Sans pulled her into his lap and as he stroked her hair, it didn’t seem so scary anymore. “I’m sorry. I don’t normally talk about my family. Grandmama would travel every year to see us and would tell us to come home. I don’t think my parents really wanted to stay here. Papa and Mama missed everyone. Especially Mama, she didn’t like me not knowing the rest of the family.” She pressed her face against him, as if to shy away from her memories. “All my aunts and uncles and cousins really enjoyed sailing and being by ocean. They used to joke that it was only a matter of time before someone was born on a boat and then my parents migrated and voila! I was born on a boat. With all the gifts that were sent, it was like a momentous occasion, someone finally having a baby on the ocean. You know it’s kind of funny, but your home really looks like my cousins home.” she said with a small laugh. “Except I think the kitchen is smaller than theirs. We spent so much time by the ocean, everyone would joke the house was just our winter home.” 

The bad thing about actively not remembering was losing details. She could recall traveling to places but it all was so distant in her mind. She had almost forgotten what her cousins looked like. “Didya’ get down to the beaches here often?” Sans asked softly. Frisk shook her head. “We couldn’t. Grandmama had a stroke before we left and she couldn't walk around much. I’m just happy she was able to move at all! It was so scary because she couldn’t move the whole left side of her body after it happened. She had to use a wheelchair even after regaining movement.” Frisk shuddered. “It’s a terrible thing to go through. I can’t imagine not being able to dance.” 

“You never did explain, why’d you start dancing at clubs?” He knew for money, of course. She had said as much before and caring for a sick grandmother couldn’t have been easy. Staring at Frisk, who was so prim she didn’t even bob her hair, he couldn’t picture her just hopping up to a speakeasy asking for a job. 

“Well it wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do.” She pulled an arm from his embrace to play with her hair. “I had to tell everyone I was sixteen and-” 

“Wait a sec, how old were ya?” Sans had always assumed she started dancing at a much more reasonable age. He knew better than anyone that speakeasies and gangster clubs were no place for children and dancers were in such vulnerable positions to begin with. She looked so small in his arms and he couldn’t imagine an even smaller, younger Frisk dancing on a stage surrounded by people that were like… like him.

“Fourteen. Grandmama couldn’t work.” Frisk said with a shrug. “It was either dancing or other things. I chose to dance. Some places wanted me to do cabaret but I’m not exactly keen on the idea of taking off my clothes, especially when I was younger and why are you wrapping me in a blanket?” It wasn’t a particularly hot night but being wrapped up in a blanket pressed against someone who was particularly warm, it was not the most comfortable position to be in.

With a huff, Sans replied, “I’m cocooning you up so one day you’ll emerge as a beautiful butterfly. Don’t ask questions, kiddo, just accept the blanket. How’d you get your first job?” 

“There was a wanna-be sheik lookin’ guy that was sweet on me and I convinced him to take me to a speakeasy. Met the owner, lied a little, dumped the guy, and started working. Eventually I knew where to look on my own and just hopped to another speakeasy when things started going sour.” It was surprising how nonchalantly Frisk was able to sum up such a miserable part of her life. Barely more than a child, she’d been scared walking onto the stage for the first time. She’d only ever danced for her family and there was never the risk of someone shooting her. As an adult, she didn’t think herself able to recapture the boldness and desperation of her youth. It had been so terrifying, sneaking into the speakeasy with that stupid boy and she only had one chance to convince the owner to hire her. “Now that I think about it, I wonder how much my magic was playing a role. I wasn’t really aware of it but Gaster said it’s passively active all the time regardless and I wanted so badly to get hired.” She rubbed her face and huffed. “I was really stupid. The speakeasy got raided a coupla’ times by the police and it reached the point where the owner was letting _everyone_ in and I left before it got really bad.”

Sans had a faint inkling of which club she was talking about. “Sounds like a border joint. None of us really bother keeping up with them- except for Ben’s club but he’s a special case.”

“Is he crazy?”

“He’s a downright loon. With all the fights that break out there, I’m surprised Wings wanted to use his club. I have no idea how he maintains the restaurant front when there’s a shoot out every otha’ week.” grumbled Sans. There were many reasons why he hated Ben’s club and Frisk nearly getting hurt there was just the icing on the cake. 

She didn’t like asking but wanted to know, “What was that fight all about?” Given that Sans’ eye lights went out, it wasn’t a question he liked either. “That, darlin’, was the first blow against Chara. Wings wanted to use it as an opportunity to try out some new brew that’s been in the works for a while now. It’s supposed to block magic in monsters and incapacitate humans. Wings wanted to test it out to determine how strong it was, since we’ve been smuggling it around Chara’s territory. It’s ‘posed to really addictive too and there’s a whole thing goin’ on with it you don’t need ta’ worry about. Basically so no one got suspicious, it was supposed to be sent out during your dance numba’ but you kinda hypnotized everyone in the building and we were outta distractions. All those guys had it coming though. They were some of Chara’s more vocal public supporters and bumping them off dealt her a bit of a blow.”

She still didn’t feel better about the two men in the basement. As if he read her mind, Sans kissed her forehead and continued on, “Don’t feel about those other bums. I’m fairly certain they were involved in some of the kidnappings.”

“Is that still going on?” 

“Yep. Not as bad as before but we’ve been keeping a better eye on the border between us and Chara.” He really didn’t want to tell her about the smuggling and sabotage they were doing. It was bad enough Gaster kept bringing her further into the operation. ‘ _I thought we just wanted her as a spy to dazzle people with._ ’

“I won’t be able to stay all night.” he muttered, holding her tightly. 

“That’s al _night_.”

“Don’t even get started, Frisky.”

“Now you sound like Papyrus.” she replied with a mischievous grin. With a gasp, Sans exclaimed, “Don’t even compare me to that wet blanket! I am both shocked and hurt.”

“I know, I know,” She paused, her grin never leaving, “That was a rather _electrifying_ thing to say.”

“It is a _shocking_ statement.” It wasn’t the best one he had and he knew it.

“That’s lame.” she said flatly.

“Cut me some slack, I’ve been workin’ day. Though you know, since I ran outta puns, I have to kiss ya now.” he said with a triumphant laugh, pushing her back onto the bed. Frisk laughed as well and wiggled her head under the blanket. “That’s cheating.” he whined. She pulled the blanket back partially and stuck out her tongue at him. “I’m just becoming a butterfly.” she remarked in a sing-song voice and burrowed back into the blanket. Not one to be defeated by a simple blanket, and having the advantage of holding onto one of the sides, Sans pulled the blanket from around her. “And voila! You’ve emerged from your slumber!” Now it was Frisk’s turn to pout. “Excuse you, good sir, you are messing up my bed.” she said in her most indignant voice. In response Sans slung the blanket over both of them and crawled over her. “Bed’s made.” he said with a wicked grin, pinning her down. She was blushing and biting her lip, and feeling more than a little foolish but when he kissed her it felt so nice. 

She wrapped her arms around Sans' neck as he trailed one hand to her waist, and tangled the other up in her hair. He only stopped kissing her long enough to stroke her cheek and murmured, "I really missed you, darling." 

Guilt munched away at her heart and she couldn't deny the feeling was mutual. "I missed you too." Sans pulled her closer, holding her as tight as he dared. She felt so small in his arms and all he wanted to do was keep her safe. "I promise things'll get better, darling. Just hold onto me." he whispered, almost pleadingly. For just one more night, Frisk vowed wouldn't let him go.

~------~------~ 

Whether it was a cruel joke or by fate’s design, Frisk didn’t see Sans again. The rest of the week passed by so quickly the call from Suta was almost underwhelming. “Morning, Frisk. We’re all heading down to the station a bit early. Still comin’ along?” 

“Good morning! Yes, I’ll be there!”

“Great, we can celebrate leavin’ this place with some breakfast. See you soon, Frisk.” 

“Ah, yes! See you soon. Bye.” She set the phone back on its stand, her heart practically beating out of her chest. “Mein gott, mein gott!” Frisk slumped to the floor, taking in deep gulps of air. “Oh god. I have to leave.” She felt so light headed and everywhere was too bright and big. “It’s really happening.” Her suitcase had been pre packed the night before, though it was painful to so tightly wrap up the precious silk costume, getting rid of the wrinkles was going to be a nightmare. She had rolled her clothes as small as they could be and stuff as many things into the small suitcase as possible. “If anyone asks, I’m taking the costume to a dry cleaners. It won’t be suspicious.” she repeated like a mantra. “Just don’t act suspicious.” Standing up, she smoothed her hair down, picked up the suitcase and put on her shoes. It pained her to leave the record player but at least she could grab the records. One last glance at the little apartment and her heart ached. ‘ _Don’t think of Sans. Don’t you dare, stupid heart!_ ’ 

Frisk held her head high as she walked, determined to be confident in her decision. Originally she planned to get a taxi to shorten the journey but her mind was too clouded and she wanted to walk, if for just part of the way. ‘ _Some fresh air’ll do me good before getting stuck on a train. I’ll get a taxi in another block._ ’ Another block came and she continued to walk. ‘ _Haha, wouldn’t it.. Wouldn’t it be strange if I happened to see Sans?’_ The suitcase sank in her grip like a rock. _‘Like I could just go back to the apartment. If I saw him… just one last time._ ’ Her brisk pace slowed and her eyes burned with tears. ‘ _This is for the best._ ’ 

She craned her head around hoping to catch a glimpse of him. ‘ _This is for the best._ ’ she repeated but couldn’t stop hoping for just a hint of his presence.

She should’ve left a letter. 

‘ _He’s going to be so upset! I’m such a horrible person, up and running like this._ ’ 

If she quickly wrote one to him, before the train left, she could explain herself.

‘ _I don’t want him to think I hate him. Oh mein gott, that’s so far from the truth. I can’t.._ ’

She tried to hasten through the streets, quickly pushing past people. ‘ _This is so awful. I want to take him with me._ ’ 

Her heart felt so heavy and her soul protested against each step, pleading for her turn around. ‘ _I’m sorry Sans! I can’t stay here. I simply can’t… this is all too awful for me._ ’ In her mind, she begged for Sans to appear and stop her. She was so close to freedom and it tasted so bitter. More than wanting to step on a train to escape the city, she wished it was night time and she and Sans were sitting together somewhere warm and safe. In that moment, Frisk almost stopped and turned back but she steeled her heart, turning her mind to all the terrible things that had happened to her. ‘ _I_ can’t _stay here. I have to leave._ ’ 

When she heard her name called, Frisk thought it was at first all in her head. But when she heard it the second time, she turned around, holding her breath as her blood ran cold. “Howdy Frisk! I knew that was you.” exclaimed Asriel, bounding up to her. 

“Hallo Asriel! Wow, I haven’t seen you in a long time.” She made a real effort to put a smile on her face. ‘ _What is he doing here? This is the brother’s territory!_ ’ Her mind screamed to run but social etiquette held her place. “I know! It’s been so long. Say, this might sound a little strange, but I saw you from our car. Mother and I are heading out for a late breakfast, why don’t you join us?” Frisk tried to say no. She tried to pull back but his hand stretched out and held tightly to her arm. She tried to tug away but soon was sitting in a car and he was blocking her from the door. “Oh my! You must be Frisk! My son told me so much about you. It’s such a delight to meet you. I’m Toriel!” was the rather cheerful exclamation from a monster, sitting right next to her. Toriel smiled brightly, seemingly unperturbed by the young woman suddenly being thrust into the car. Once more, Frisk forced a smile, swallowing against the dread slowly building. “Nice to meet you. I’m Frisk.” 

“I hope you don’t mind inviting her along, mother.” said Asriel with a triumphant smile, knowing full well Toriel did not mind at all. Indeed it was she who first spotted Frisk on the sidewalk, mistaking her for a long haired Chara, and Asriel was only too happy to go retrieve her. “Oh no! It’s so lovely meeting new people. Especially someone like you! You really do look like such a little doll.” Toriel said, sizing Frisk up.

‘ _She’s crazy._ ’ Frisk decided. ‘ _They are both crazy._ ’ 

“So mother and I have this tradition of going out to eat at least once a week. Just to spend some time together. We’re slowly making our way through all the restaurants in the city. This one, I heard, makes very good omelettes.” stated Asriel. Both mother and son relaxed back into their seats as the car drove on, completely ignoring the discomfort of their ‘guest’.

Frisk tried very hard to maintain the smile on her face as Asriel and Toriel chatted happily away. It was mostly nonsense about all the places they’d gone to in the past and Frisk did her best to pay attention but her heart was beating in her ears. ‘ _I’m going to miss the train. I’m going to miss the train._ ’ She could almost imagine Suta standing on the platform, trying to spot her in the crowd. ‘ _I’m never going to leave. I’m going to miss the train._ ’ Toriel practically squealed in excitement as they reached the restaurant. Frisk was completely lost. She didn’t recognize the street nor the names of any of the businesses around and being stuck in the middle seat, she hadn’t been able to keep track of which roads they turned down. The neighborhood was clearly wealthy and much more high class than what Frisk had ever seen. She had thought Ben’s club was ritzy, with it’s gilded columns, this restaurant was carved from marble and gold, and decorated with fresh flowers. It was like walking into a Greek temple but instead of worshipping gods, they were seated at a table next to a fountain with blooming water lilies. 

“So Frisk, since you’re our guest pick out anything you like!” said Toriel as they were handed menus. “Thank you.” Frisk squeaked out, hoping her trembling hands weren’t too noticeable. 

“Asriel told me you two met at a dance not too long ago. But you poor thing were with the Skeleton Brothers!” she said, a look of horror on her face. “Those boys are so awful, how ever did you get mixed up with them, dearie?”

‘ _Ah, there it is. Fishing for information already. I can play this game._ ’ Frisk thought, quickly formulating a lie. She made a show of looking uncomfortable, tucking her hair behind her ears, and biting her lip, before explaining, “Well it’s uh… um. I’m a dancer at different clubs,” she quickly ran through her memories, pulling out the names of a few in case they asked, “And I met them after a show. I think… um.. They were looking for someone to um, make them more approachable? I was just supposed to mingle with other guests. It’s not something I normally...do.” She was playing her hair now, staring at the table. ‘ _Please buy it. Please buy it. It was just for spying and nothing really happened. Just pretend like you don’t know anything._ ’ She risked peeking up at them and Toriel looked perfectly shocked. Asriel’s face was unreadable. ‘ _Have your suspicions all you want, you never asked why I was with them._ ’ she thought defiantly. Toriel reached a hand across the table for Frisk. Trying to hide her reluctance, Frisk grasped it. “You poor little dear! Those boys are so cruel, they haven’t bothered you since?” she inquired, squeezing Frisk’s hand comfortingly. It was such a lovely gesture, having someone so concerned for her well being, she felt a little bad for lying.

“I switched clubs afterwards. I didn’t want to chance meeting them again.” she explained. It wasn’t entirely a lie and there were plenty of girls who went to parties just to look pretty for the real guests. She just happened to have been brought by a rival gang. Toriel clucked her tongue, disapprovingly. “What would your parents say? They would be so worried knowing you were going around such terrible places.” 

Frisk didn’t have to feign her pain. “I don’t have parents.” Toriel turned sharply to Asriel. “I thought I raised you better than this! A lone girl being mixed up in such an awful crowd,” The irony of Toriel’s words was not lost on Frisk. “ And you just let her leave, no number or anyway to get help! What if she got hurt?” she lectured. Turning back to Frisk, “Oh my poor little doll, where are you working now? No, don’t answer! I can’t bear to hear it! I’m hosting a little get together with some girlfriends and you simply must attend and no, I won’t hear a word of protest!” she exclaimed. “You must attend. A few of them run some amazing establishments that value their entertainment. Oh, I’ll have to introduce you to them. What kind of dancing do you do?” 

“I’m a belly dancer-”

“Like from the world fair?” Toriel clasped her hands together, appearing very dazzled. “I went to the one back in ‘93 and saw a few belly dancers there! That’s so exciting! Oh I simply must introduce you!” she declared very firmly. 

Despite the situation, Frisk did feel a little hungry and the food was truly delicious. Whoever told Asriel about the omelettes was not lying. She wanted desperately to know what time it was but couldn’t think of a good reason to ask. Her suitcase had been brought up and she stammered out it was her costume that had picked up from the dry cleaners. Toriel wanted to see it but thankfully it was Asriel who said a restaurant was probably not the best place to show off freshly pressed clothes. 

“I must say Frisk, you look so similar to…” Toriel sniffled a little. “Oh dear, you look so much like someone I used to know.” 

It was the second time Frisk had been compared to Chara by someone who was close to her and she suppressed a shudder. “Um, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Frisk asked, unsure of what else to say. She was certain Toriel was making a show of being hurt. One simply did not become a gang leader’s wife by being emotional and weak, especially in public. She dabbed her eyes and replied, “Oh yes. I’m quite alright, dearie.” 

As Toriel pretended to misty eyed, Asriel played the role of concerned son, gently wrapping an arm around his mother and looking appropriately sad. Frisk also maintained an appropriately sympathetic expression as she watched the display. "But enough of this nonsense, you are such a little treasure! Where do you learn to dance?" Toriel said quickly. Frisk shifted in her chair, her discomfort genuine. They weren't Sans. She didn't want either of them to know about her. 

"I had a teacher, some years back. It wasn't really a proper studio or anything but the lessons were cheap." Just enough truth mixed in to disguise the lie but this time it was Asriel pressing for more. "Was your teacher based here?" 

' _What do the two of you want from me?_ ' Frisk had the feeling they were trying to catch her in a lie. ' _I am the one in control. This is just like with Muffet but now there's two of them. I_ am _in control._ ' She hadn’t had the chance to practice the charming side of her magic in a while, despite Gaster saying it was always active regardless, but now seemed like a good time to work on it. Frisk sat a little more properly, angling herself towards the duo and sitting a little straighter as she delicately folded her hands across her lap. ' _Be demure and sweet so they don't suspect a thing._ ' she told herself. "It was overseas. I immigrated here when I was fourteen." 

Toriel leaned forward excitedly. "So young! That must have been hard, were you…" she hesitated for a moment, as she was unsure about her next words. "Were you alone then?" 

A gentle, sad smile formed across Frisk's face. "I was." 

"Oh my goodness! No wonder you ended up in such a bad place! Poor child! Well, we can't have be alone for much longer. I'm serious dearie, I'm hosting the party in a couple weeks. You simply _must_ attend. I couldn't go on knowing you were out here, all by your lonesome. I think we can get you set up some place real nice." 

Frisk didn't think she had much of a choice. She spent the rest of the lunch listening to Toriel prattle on about her friends and Frisk and Asriel politely nodded along. After enough staring, Frisk realized the beautiful flowers surrounding them were fake. The restaurant didn’t appear so lovely to her anymore. She peeked over to idly gaze at the water lilies. ‘ _Those are real, at least._ ’ It was a bit of a disappointment being surrounded by cloth and paper flowers whilst the real ones were out of reach.

Asriel kept sneaking glances at her and she felt distinctly unsafe each time he did. Thinking back to the conversation the brothers had about Asriel, she got the impression he was very much his father's son. Asgore didn't quite have the mean reputation the Skeleton Brothers did but he was brutal enough to maintain a firm grip on his territory. There was something about the way Asriel moved, a faint glimmer in his eye, that she hadn't noticed at the party, but she saw it now. Frisk suddenly understood why the brothers was so suspicious. He acted so charming but just like his mother's misty eyes over Chara, it was all a ruse for something much deeper. Each time she caught him looking at her, Frisk ducked her head down shyly, staring at the table. 

With their meals finished, mother and son flanked Frisk, guiding her to the car. For a moment she was afraid they weren't going to let her go. "Now where do you live, dearie?"

"Oh I can walk. It's not bother-"

"Absolutely not! A young lady like yourself walking about all alone? What if someone tried to grab you? Nonsense, we'll take you home." 

Gaster was going to move her again. Frisk just knew it. ' _Why am I thinking of that now? I still have my suitcase, I can wait till after they leave and this time I_ will _take a taxi and I_ will _run away!_ ' It was a lie. As terrible as it was, Frisk wanted Sans, now more than ever. She wanted to see him and to feel safe. She wanted someone to protect her from all this madness. More importantly, Frisk was absolutely certain she was in love with him and could not in good conscious, leave him behind. Sitting between the two Dreemurrs, Frisk silently reiterated her promise to Sans. She wasn't going to let him go. 

Frisk thanked them with sincerity for the meal and car ride as they arrived back at her apartment. Toriel had very politely demanded Frisk's phone number so she could call her and made Frisk promise to attend her get-together. Like in the restaurant, Frisk had caught Asriel staring at her several times in the car and she was very much relieved to be away from him. ' _No wonder Sans hates him! How did I not see how creepy he is?_ ' She closed her apartment door and firmly locked it. It wasn't until she began to unpack her suitcase did Frisk realize how badly her hands still trembled. She could barely hold onto the clothes as they were unrolled and properly folded. "Good gravy." She muttered in annoyance, giving up the task. "I should just call them already."

Frisk started to pace about the studio, somehow managing to nearly trip over her two still unpacked boxes. “What do I tell them? It’s so random to say I was out and about and just happened to run into both Asriel _and_ his mother! Well I guess that’s what happened. Does that sound strange? It sounds strange.” With a small huff, Frisk decided it would be best to say she went out exploring and ran into them. It was only a half-lie and seemed to be the running theme for how her day was going. She steeled her nerves and quickly dialed their dial. 

Surprisingly, it was Papyrus who answered. “Greetings Miss Frisk.” 

“Um.. hallo. How’d you know it was me?”

“You’re the only one with this number. What do you need?”

“Oh um, I think…” The words were stuck in her throat. “Um… I think I’m in trouble.” She was met with silence on the other end. “Um, Papyrus?” she asked hesitantly.?

“Yes?” he said from next to her. 

Frisk screamed and jumped back, throwing the phone, which thanks to the cord, succeeded in only traveling several inches before falling uselessly to dangle from the wall. “Why’d you do that? Oh Jesus! I’m going to have a heart attack!” she exclaimed breathlessly, clutching her chest. “I don’t need any more surprises today.” 

“You said you were in danger?” 

“Well, um, trouble I guess.” Frisk wrung her hands together, trying to form words to her thoughts. “Ah, I went for a walk today and ended up having lunch with Asriel and Toriel.” She barely had time to finish her sentence before Papyrus grabbed her and they appeared in the middle of the brothers house. He then proceeded to tug her along to Gaster’s office, kicking the door open. “I TOLD YOU WE SHOULD’VE KEPT MISS FRISK HERE.”

Gaster looked up from the papers he was going over and only succeeded in slightly opening his mouth to speak before Papyrus barrelled on, “THEY’RE PAYING TOO MUCH ATTENTION TO HER. FIRST MUFFET AND NOW ASRIEL AND HIS BLASTED MOTHER-”

“What?” Gaster rushed up and over to Frisk. "Did they do anything to you?"

Frisk nervously wrung her hands together. “It was more like I was coerced into going to lunch with them and I think Toriel wants to set me up with a job somewhere.”

~------~------~------~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small history lesson: Most immigrants in the early 1900s did not immigrate to the U.S to become citizens. Since the U.S economy was starting boom there were a number of jobs available, mostly factory jobs. So immigrants would come over, get jobs, save up money, get a trade skill, and go back to their respective country of origin. There was a common practice with those who stayed in the U.S to 'Americanize' their names. Like Johann would become John. In regards to Frisk, it's period appropriate for her father to work in a steel mill whilst her mother was a housewife. Chances are, they would not have made enough money travel to Germany right away and would've spent years in poverty saving up to move. So Frisk's surname is Engel and I don't really bring that up too much. Depending on conditions and location, her family could've either kept the last name as it was, or 'Americanized' it. This could've been done by reverting to it's Germanic meaning: Angel. Or they could've altered it to something like English, so Frisk English, or something along those lines. For the story's purpose(& not that it really matters plot wise) she kept her surname with the original spelling. Another fun fact, Frisk is 24 in the story, which means she was born in 1896. Next chapter is basically a beach episode so get ready for that.


	20. Plots and Plans and a Forgotten Beach House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine is begins to accept her role and plots to tease her love interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split this into two parts. I didn't realize how long it was leading up to the beach but I promise, next chapter is the actual beach episode. It's not written yet because I must procrastinate but it will not take over a month to post like this one. Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone! Oh and don't forget, I have a Tumblr (@missraindancer). I have a few scribbles I'll be posting up there :)

~------~------~------~

Frisk firmly decided that outside of dancing, being the center of attention was not very exciting. She fidgeted with her dress, repeatedly crinkling it up and smoothing it back out, and trying not to bite too hard on her lip. Gaster had her hold off the tale of luncheoning with the Dreemurrs until Sans arrived home from his tasks. Sans' jaw had yet to unclench and he paced about the living room like a caged animal, muttering under his breath. He had lit a cigar and took huge puffs between his quiet ravings. Neither Gaster or Papyrus appeared to be overly bothered by his behavior so Frisk tried not to notice much too. Her initial instinct was to calm him down and reassure him that she was indeed alright, just mildly shaken, but held herself in check in front of his brothers, instead simply saying with a hesitant smile, “Sans, it’s alright.” She had a sneaky suspicion she’d be seeing him later anyways. 

“We’re focusing too intensely on blocking out Chara.” Gaster said. “If the Dreemurrs are bold enough to start scouting around themselves, then we will strengthen our border against them.”

“Do you think Asriel’s goal all along was to set us up against Chara?” asked Papyrus, almost hesitantly. He wasn’t pacing about the room, choosing to stand hunched over, and nervously shift his weight from one foot to another. It wasn’t the first time the theory had been floated and with an ever widening gap of silence from when they last heard from Asriel, the possibility of a set-up was becoming more and more poignant. 

Grim lines had set all three of their faces and Frisk tried to make herself very small on the couch. After taking out so many of Chara’s supporters- and ensuring she got the message with the bodies- they were in too deep to pull back now. “We’ll find out. Or rather Frisk will.” Gaster replied. At the same time Sans whirled on the eldest brother, “The fuck are you thinking?” Papyrus straightened “YOU CAN NOT BE SERIOUS!” 

‘ _Ooh, I actually get to be a spy now._ ’ In spite of her initial feelings of wanting to escape from the Dreemurrs (and the whole city, really), she couldn’t deny the sudden surge of excitement. ‘ _I can get back at them and they’ll have no idea!_ ’ For the first time, Frisk felt excited about her job.

Gaster simply waved them away, choosing to focus on Frisk. “This was quite the fortuitous meeting and you’re the best option to figure out what is happening within the Dreemurr household.” Once more in a move that reminded her more of a predator eyeing a rabbit, though she didn’t feel so rabbit like now, Gaster tilted his head to one side, smiling a rather joyless smile. “You have an invitation into their home, let’s capitalize on this, shall we?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Frisk replied, smiling back. 

“Excellent, so in the meantime, you’ll be staying here again.” Frisk’s excitement dissipated a little at his words. “Papyrus is right, they are taking too much of an interest in you and it would behoove us to watch the apartment for a few days, at least, as a precaution. So Sans, Papyrus, let’s get her packed up for another temporary stay and we’ll discuss setting up more patrols in the area.” 

“That fuckin’ asshole!” roared Sans as soon as they appeared in Frisk’s little studio. 

“Sans-” Papyrus started, a hint of a warning in his voice.

“No, _no_. We shouldn’t be catering to those fuckers. Bringing Frisk to that damn party was massive fuckin’ mistake and Wing’s knew it was too risky to keep using her after Asriel chatted her up the whole damn night!” snapped Sans. With angry huff, he settled on the bed, glowering at the floor. “Are you gonna be alright, toots?” 

“I’m going to buy a bag of tootsie rolls and everytime you call me that, I’ll throw one at you.” Before Sans could even open his mouth to respond, Frisk quickly interjected, putting a hand on his arm. “Sans, it's going to be alright." She stared up at him pleadingly, ‘ _Trust me, it’s going to be alright._ ’ With a grunt, Sans relented. “I know, I know it’s going to be fine. I just…” He rubbed his face. “I don’t like givin’ ‘em what they want, ya know?” 

“Well that works in our favor, ja? Because they won’t be expecting me to be a spy and besides, they didn’t have to take me home so I don’t think they’re going to hurt me.” explained Frisk, keeping her hand on him. This was as much to calm him down as it was to reassure herself, as she focused her magic to soothe him.  She did feel a little guilty using her magic to influence him but the outburst was rather unexpected. She knew the brothers often teased each other with insults but this was most definitely not teasing and in the time she’d known them, outright questioning of Gaster’s orders was unheard of. “Miss Frisk is right you know, as am I, and more importantly, so is Wings. We need to trust his judgement with this.” Papyrus said. When she was certain Sans wasn’t going to start yelling, she let go of his arm and gathered up some clothes- and felt a little grateful to her past self attempting to unpack the suitcase so it didn’t look so suspicious- and quickly rolled them up once more.

“All set.” she said and with that, the world of her small apartment turned into the frozen world of the Underground. Gaster was not waiting for them in the house so she assumed him to either be off in his office or doing whatever it was he normally did. The trio silently dispersed to their own respective activities, with the brothers off to properly finish their tasks of the day, and with Frisk deciding to stay in the guest room. 

Frisk flopped back against the bed, not bothering to unpack. “I’ve been doing this too much as of late.” she muttered, staring at the ceiling through half closed eyes. A quick look at the clock told her it was barely four in the afternoon. She let out a half choked laugh and covered her face. ‘ _So much for my grand plan to run away._ ' Rolling her head to face the window and stare out into the forest, she was met with nothing but trees and the ever present snow. Unlike her last visit, there was no sign of a blizzard, with the artificial sun just starting to make it’s down the horizon. With a groan, she rolled to her side, facing away. “Too bad it’s so cold. If I had the proper boots I could go play in the snow.” Finally having a chance to relax and process the day's events, she curled up in a ball, taking in deep breaths. “It’s going to be okay. I just need to think.” she muttered into the blanket. Thinking was the last thing she wanted to do since thinking about her situation was what led to the whole ordeal. ‘ _This isn’t how I wanted my day to go._ ’ she thought pitifully. ‘ _I wondered how long they waited for me at the station? Did they try calling the apartment to check on me?_ ’ With a resigned sigh, Frisk wrapped the blanket around herself for comfort, and decided a nap was in order to clear her head. ‘ _I can feel sorry for myself later._ ’ 

~------~------~

It was not his brightest idea, Sans was ready to admit but it was satisfying and best of all, it was going to provoke a reaction. Since he couldn't yell at Gaster, causing mayhem elsewhere sounded like the perfect solution to let off some steam. When he left initially it was to simply pick off anyone who dared to cross paths with him, but an idea quickly formulated. If Asriel was setting them up for a war with Chara and thinking he could simply bow out, then Sans was going to draw the head of the Dreemurr family into the fray. He wasn't certain how often Chara's goons raided the Dreemurr's territory but staging an attack wouldn't be hard if he found enough people.

Sneaking into Chara’s territory, it was no problem finding a group of her goons to shoot up. The group had been loitering in an alley, making it all the easier for Sans. Guns weren’t normally his style but any sign of magic would likely raise suspicion, and he couldn't deny the absolute efficiency and fun of using a Tommy gun. Stashing the bodies aside for later, it was much harder sneaking into the Dreemurr’s territory. Not only was he rather unfamiliar with the area and thus only knew of a few places to teleport too, Asgore ran a tighter ship than Chara, and Sans didn’t know who was part of the gang and who was an ordinary citizen. The last thing he needed was a lecture from Gaster because he got caught trespassing into Dreemurr territory. He stuck mostly to back allies and poked through abandoned looking buildings until he came across a warehouse. A quick glance through the windows revealed a group inside. There were two separate factions, twelve men in total and if he played it right, he’d only need to shoot one to ruin the whole meeting. 

He quickly moved along the side of the building until he found a window positioned behind one group, pulled out a pistol, and took aim. The man hadn’t even hit the ground before guns were drawn on both sides. Between the dead man and back and forth yelling, it did not take long for the fight to ensue. Teleporting to the front door, Sans picked off anyone who tried to make a break for it and took out people when it looked like one side was gaining the upper hand. Staying behind the door and only shooting when needed, kept him relatively unnoticed. On any other occasion, he didn’t mind a challenging fight, that only made it fun, but this mission required him to not take chances. If he got hurt (or happened to come home blood splattered) there’d be too many questions he didn’t want to answer too. Between him and the lack of cover, it was not long before both groups were decimated. He quickly ran through the bodies, making sure each man really was dead and teleported back to where he’d stashed Chara’s goons and carefully dumped them around the warehouse, making it look like a proper three-way shoot out.

He eyed the men from the other group, feeling rather justified in taking them out. From the few pockets he searched, it was a drug deal with a minor gang. “Damn mugs.” Sans grumbled. Between Chara’s indifference and whatever was occupying Asgore's attention, many a small time gang had been popping up in all three territories, trying to stake a claim wherever they went. The brother’s hadn’t had to deal with many, quickly and efficiently mowing down any that dared to challenge them, leaving a very clear and deadly message; between maintaining their territory’s borders and routinely knocking Chara’s ambitious kidnapping goon squads, they had enough to deal with. Asgore making friends with the petty criminals only emboldened them to think they could compare to the real players and cause trouble for everyone else. 

Once he was sure the scene was properly staged, Sans teleported back his territory to finish his regular duties, quite pleased with his handiwork. If Asriel thought he could set the brothers up and not face any consequences, he was in for a rude awakening- Asgore could still be provoked into action against his estranged daughter. This at least would give Frisk something to spy on and with any luck, ruin Toriel’s plan for bringing a stranger around. Sans whistled whilst he walked, his thoughts turning to his little lady. The only good thing coming out of the Dreemurrs being bold was Frisk having to stay once more with brothers, giving him near unlimited access to her. Today was a good day. 

~------~------~

Frisk was feeling rather proud of herself. After a short nap, she decided to try her hand at Italian cooking again. Rather than make an easy dish like spaghetti, she wanted something bold. She flipped open the recipe book and decided whichever recipe came up first, that was one she was going to make. ‘ _Hm, minestra, looks easy enough._ ’ Like before, the brothers' pantry was well stocked and Frisk mused that they must have someone shop for them. She couldn’t imagine any of the three brothers having the patience necessary to grocery shop for themselves. ‘ _Let’s see, I need some beans...and where is the salt?_ ’ 

As Frisk stirred the ingredients together, her thoughts turned to the books Gaster had lent her. The few parts on human magic were so small, she blinked and the passages were gone. ‘ _I wonder… since my magic started off so passively, are there more magical humans who simply don’t know they have magic?_ ’ She stirred the ingredients slowly, barely focusing on the soup. ‘ _Maybe they just need a trigger to discover it? Though I would’ve picked something much less dramatic._ ’ She frowned, thinking back to her first meeting with them. ‘ _Something much_ much _less dramatic would’ve been nice._ ’ The brothers said they had never come across another magical human beyond Chara and it’s not like Frisk could go hopping over for a quick chat about their respective abilities. ‘ _This feels a little lonely. I’m taking such baby steps with controlling my magic and I still don’t know how to do much with it._ ’ 

“I appreciate you saving myself and Sans from Papyrus’ cooking. I don’t believe I properly thanked you the last time.” said Gaster from over her shoulder.

With a surprised squeak and a jump, the spoon she’d been stirring with went flying up into the air and hit the floor with a loud clatter. Frisk clutched at her chest, trying to stop her heart from beating straight out of it. She gripped the counter to steady herself and whirled on Gaster, who was trying to stifle his laugh. 

“Are you alright-”

“No! I am not alright! Why do you and your brothers do this? All the time! I’m going to have a heart attack!” She picked up the spoon, chucking it into the sink, and grabbed another, waving it angrily about. "I'm going to attach bells to all three of you and then no one can sneak up on me." To Frisk, the logic was rock solid but Gaster merely chuckled. She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him defiantly. "I quite mean it."

"I'm sure.” He said, taking her spoonless hand and pressed a kiss onto it. "My apologies, Miss Frisk.” 

Whatever response that had been formulating in her mind, quickly died in a wave of shyness and embarrassment. Frisk opened her mouth but the sound of the soup starting to bubble over caught her attention. “Ah! Oh no! I forgot.” She quickly turned off the heat and gave it a quick stir, determining it to be thoroughly cooked. “Ahm, I think it’s done.” she said with a helpless laugh. “If this taste burnt, I’m blaming you. Can you get some bowls?” 

“I’m sure it’s fine. You lack the _amazing_ ,” How he put so much pain into one word, Frisk didn’t know, “ability that my dear youngest brother has to make even the simplest recipe taste like coal.”

“You’ve eaten coal before?”

Her cheesy grin was met with an unamused blank stare. “Sans already does puns, we don’t need more jokes.” he stated flatly, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

"Speaking of, will they be home soon?" asked Frisk as the pair took a seat at the table. ' _Hm, well it doesn't taste too bad._ ' Her Italian cuisine experience was very limited, but she was certain the minestra turned out well enough. 

"Ideally they will be. There is much to discuss." 

Frisk shifted nervously in the chair. Once more, she felt like a child with her feet barely touching the ground. She wanted to swing her legs around or at least curl up but didn’t believe either action to be very mature in front of her employer. Even though she could reconcile her feelings for Sans and what he did for a living, hearing about it was another matter. Be it because the discomfort was visible on her face or out of concern, Gaster shifted the conversation, saying, "I understand this is not an ideal situation for you, are you faring well?"

"Um, yes. I'm keeping busy." Frisk said with some hesitance and a smile at the soup, which she idley stirred, avoiding his gaze. ' _Sheesh, why does this remind me of Asriel?_ ' Her pleasant expression somewhat faltered at the thought of him. A bubble of panic rose up as the realization of her situation truly dawned on her. ‘ _I should’ve just left. I should’ve just left and sent a letter to Sans to meet me somewhere._ ’ More than wanting to run away, Frisk wished she could slink off to wait for her beau. Whilst Papyrus had the amazing ability to burn boiling water, Sans appeared as soon as Frisk wished for him. Sounds of his laugh and Papyrus’ grumblings could be heard as they stomped snow off their shoes and entered the house. 

"So ya know what I said?"

"NO I DO NOT-"

"It's bone chillin' out ‘ere!"

"SHUT. UP. SANS!" 

"Hey now, Paps, don't act so cold." 

Before the conversation between his younger brothers could go any further, Gaster called out, "Don't track snow in the house." 

"Yea, yea we _snow_." called out Sans. Gaster leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily watching his brothers from the entryway. Frisk couldn’t see them from her vantage point but Gaster turned back around and rubbed his face. “They’re like children, getting snow everywhere.”

"SANS!"

"Paps. Don't track in snow, ya heard him." She could almost hear the shit-eating grin on Sans’ face. Frisk assumed Papyrus had thrown a shoe based off of the thunk as it hit the wall. Sans quickly appeared in the kitchen, ducking down behind Frisk. "He can't hit me if you're here, so guard me, toots." 

She giggled and sat upper straighter to appear diligent. "Snow course." 

Gaster sighed and shook his head. " _Et tu, Brutus_?"

"WHERE- greetings Miss Frisk- IS HE- DON'T THINK HIDING BEHIND MISS FRISK IS GOING TO SAVE YOU!" Before Papyrus could complete his charge up to Sans, Gaster grabbed the back of his coat, holding him in place. “Before the two of you tear the house down, and _further_ stomp snow all over the place, ruining the floor, Miss Frisk made dinner for us.”

“Ah, thanks Frisk."

"Thank you, _Miss_ Frisk." Papyrus said, glaring down at Sans.

"Icellent, now mop up the snow the two of you tracked in, and meet me in my office." 

The stunned silence was broken by a small sniffle from San, as he pretended to wipe his eyes. "Wings, I'm so proud of you." 

"How dare you encourage him." hissed Papyrus but Frisk wasn’t certain if he was referring to Sans or Gaster, seeing as how he took turns glaring at both. Regardless, the older brothers donned an equally chagrin expression, broken only by the small smiles that formed. “Well, you heard ‘em. Let’s get to cleaning.” grinned Sans. 

“I trust all went well with your tasks?” asked Gaster once the three brothers were situated in his office. 

“Well enough.” started Papyrus. “There’s enough of a demand for our alcohol in Chara’s territory, I think it’s safe to say we have a strong hold on part of her economy. I’ve been approached by several other buyers from Dreemurr’s side of things, if we want to resume smuggling there, the market is open.” The other two nodded with Papyrus’ assessment. 

“Sounds ‘bout right. I’ve been approached for the same thing. So on the otha’ business side of things, collections are goin’ good. Since this morning, no one else has spotted the brat and his motha’. I went to the restaurant and delivered yer instructions to them so that’s at least one place they’re barred from.” Sans kept himself standing still but his hand ached to grab a cigar. He hated keeping secrets from his brothers and it was bad enough that one big secret was sitting in a room upstairs. ' _Hey bro, just wanna let you know I blew off some steam by staging a fight so Asgore will turn on Chara, since his little shit of a son t'inks he can set us up. Yea, I don't think that'll fly.'_

Gaster clasped his hands together and leaned forward on his desk. "I think," he started slowly, "that we should resume our business in Dreemurr territory. Let's start off slow and careful, and avoid conflict." Satisfied with this, he leaned back. "Tomorrow the two of you shall get into contact with the buyers and renegotiate the terms." It was almost music to Sans’ ears. ‘ _Good, we’re getting back to normal. This whole allegiance thing was doomed from the start._ ’ 

"And what of Miss Frisk?" asked Papyrus. "This is the second time she's been in danger." Sans wasn't sure if he was thankful her safety was brought up or angry that more attention was being brought to her. The simmering resent he felt for what she had been asked to do in the basement and for now essentially being handed over to their enemies, was starting to reach a boiling point. 

"In a few days, she'll be returned to the apartment, as I don't believe moving her elsewhere is beneficial. If anything, it'll raise suspicion as to why she moved. For now, the area will be watched and nothing more." Sans knew the plan made sense as he shifted back and forth, biting his tongue, but he didn’t like it. If he had his way, Frisk wouldn't be involved with the gang activity- she'd be kept somewhere safe, oblivious, and very far away. Unfortunately, he did not have his way and there could see of no way to protect Frisk. He didn’t like feeling helpless when it came to her. 

“Well, what I mean, brother, is what about Miss Frisk now? She’s going to be left alone during the day and I don’t wish for her to think we’re disregarding her.” Papyrus shifted back and forth as he spoke, feeling quite uncomfortable voicing his concerns. 

“What about the beach house?” Sans said hurriedly, an idea quickly formulating. “It’s still summer ya know and we could always take her there. I think she said something ‘bout liking the ocean and it’d be nicer than all the snow.” Both Papyrus and Gaster stared blankly at him and for a moment Sans thought mayhaps bringing up the beach house had been a mistake. “I don’t see why not.” Gaster started slowly, mulling over the idea with each word. “We haven’t been there in a while. It’ll be good to check on the house again.”

“You’re joking, right?” Frisk’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “We’re going to the ocean?” She hardly dared to breath as she spoke. 

“All four of us, yes. We still have duties to attend to so you’ll be primarily by yourself throughout the day. It’s secluded somewhat from the other houses in the area, so I don’t imagine there'll be others around.” Frisk didn’t care about seeing other people. She was particularly bouncing in place, so full excitement was she. “Oh that’s fine. I’m going to be in the ocean.”

“Ya mean by the ocean.” said Sans. 

Frisk shook her head. “No. I’m going to be _in_ the ocean. I’m going to be swimming with the fishes.”

“That means something entirely different to us, Miss Frisk.” chuckled Papyrus.

“Are we leaving soon?” she asked, almost pleadingly. 

“Tomorrow morning we’ll leave.” replied Gaster. “That is, if you can wait.” In all her childish excitement, he half expected her to start hopping around the kitchen clapping her hands. 

“Oh no, tomorrow is fine. I haven’t been to the ocean properly in years! Going to the marina just isn’t the same and it…” she trailed off, struck by a sudden wave of reality. The world started to look a little misty around the edges and she quickly blinked back the tears. “Miss Frisk, are you alright?” As suddenly as the tears formed and threatened to spill over, the brothers crowded around her. “Oh dear, yes I’m alright.” she muttered, wiping at her eyes. “I didn’t think I’d still be so upset. It’s rather silly.” She hoped her tone sounded flippant enough but it did nothing to assuage the brothers concerns. 

“Upset over what?” asked Gaster, doing his best to sound gentle with her. Frisk shifted nervously, wishing very much that she hadn’t said anything at all. Talking about her family with Sans was one thing- even then it still felt a little uncomfortable- and talking to his brothers was something else entirely. “Um, I went to the marina,” she started fussing her dress, scrunching it up and smoothing it out. “To spread my g-grandmother’s ashes.” The words tasted extra bitter after she had been so excited. 

She supposed it was meant to be comforting when Gaster took her hand but she preferred to only be touched by Sans. “Ah yes, I remember. I understand she passed earlier this year.” Frisk imagined this would probably be one of the few times in her life she’d ever witness Gaster acting noticeably uncomfortable. “If there’s anything we can do for you, please let us know.” 

Frisk shook her head, forcing a smile back on her face. “Thank you. I’ll be alright.” 

~------~------~

It was still rather early when Frisk woke up. The sun had yet to peak through and if the cloud coverage was any indication, it likely wouldn’t. She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn, fighting the urge to go back to sleep. She felt perfectly content laying with Sans, all wrapped in blankets and him, and in that moment, didn’t quite see the need to get up. It was one of the few nights where she slept restfully and was rather reluctant to give it up. Then she remembered. 

“Sans,” she whispered, “Time to wake up. It’s morning.” His light snoring remained consistent so she decided to try a different approach. Carefully as she could manage, Frisk scooted closer to his face, tenderly running her hand along his cheek. “Time to wake up, sleepy head. We’re going to the ocean today.” He groaned in protest and tightened his grip on her. “Nu-uh. It’s sleepy time.” he muttered, nestling his face into the pillow. With a soft giggle, she tried again, leaning in closer. “Wake up, sleepy head.” Instead of a proper response, he simply groaned again and muttered into the pillow. "I didn't quite catch that, love." Frisk said, tracing the outline of his cheek bone. 

"I said I need kisses for energy." he said, feeling quite smug. 

“Alright, but just one kiss and then you have to get up.” 

With a sleepy smile, he said, “Deal.” and then promptly looked hurt when all she did was kiss his cheek. “Well that’s not very nice.” But Frisk was already pulling away and off the bed, one hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh. “You didn’t say where you wanted the kiss. Now get up! We’re going to the ocean today.” She danced away from his somewhat weak attempt to grab her to focus on getting ready for the day. 

“Do you think your brothers are awake?” 

“How do you have so much energy? The sun isn’t even up.” he whined. Sans didn’t dare look at the clock. The early morning hour would likely break his heart. It was bad enough Frisk left the bed, leaving behind an empty, cold spot. She hopped about the room like an excited child, clutching her clothes. “The sun is up but there’s going to be a storm so we need to leave because there is no storm topside. You have to get out so I can change clothes.” Sans stared at her blankly, only comprehending part of what she said. “Well go on, Sans. I can’t change with you in here.”

“What if I just pull the blanket over my head and you come join me?” He knew it was futile effort, especially when she put her hands on her hips, but still tried to persuade her. “It’s warm under the blankets.” 

“That’s not the ocean.” she said matter of factly and pointed to the door. “I can’t make coffee if I don’t get dressed.” 

It wasn’t the same as sleeping in with Frisk, but the promise of coffee was enough for Sans to slowly roll out of bed and shuffle to the door. As the door closed behind him, a rather wicked idea formed in Frisk’s mind. ‘ _I don’t think they’re going to notice if I wear it under my dress._ ’ She hadn’t worn her bathing suit in a few years and was quite thankful it still fit. It was entirely on a whim she had even packed it in her plot to leave the city and it had managed to escape her nervous unpacking of yesterday. Smoothing out her dress over top it, she determined it to not be noticeable. With a small twirl and a skip, Frisk went to make good on her promise of coffee.

~------~------~------~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaster: Frisk you actually have to be a spy now.  
> Frisk: ╰(•̀ 3 •́)━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ  
> Sans: 👁️👄👁️
> 
> Sans: ⛄⛄⛄  
> Papyrus: (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
> 
> *Ocean exists*  
> Frisk: I will swim with the fishes.🧜🧜🧜  
> The brothers: No.


End file.
